Freefall
by lastknownwriter
Summary: Dean/Castiel AU. The most exciting kindergarten teacher Dean Winchester's life ever gets is when he plays mechanic in his uncle Bobby's shop on the weekends. That is until a birthday party goes tequila-nova and he trips into a one-night stand with an incredibly hot firefighter named Castiel. Dean's life gets a lot more exciting after that.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Dean!"

Dean turned from the worktable where he was wiping down and putting away his tools. It had been a slow but steady Saturday at his Uncle Bobby's shop, and he was almost sad to see the minute hand tick closer to five o'clock. He didn't always work weekends at _Singer Salvage and Autobody_, but Bobby was good to let Dean tinker and get greasy when he got the itch_. _Bobby had practically raised Dean and his brother Sam after their parents were gone. Everything Dean knew about cars he'd gleaned from the older man on hot summer afternoons in the rust-covered field out back, or on brittle winter mornings in the garage, their breaths puffing white halos of smoke around their heads.

"Yeah?"

"Customer," Bobby barked, jerking his thumb to the still-open bay doors before slamming his grimy office door behind him.

Dean rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively. "Grouchy old coot," he muttered, grinning. Bobby had never, and would never, change. He was a grumpy, sarcastic, beer drinking, tobacco-chewing bastard, and that was on a _good_ day.

But he was the best-goddamned mechanic in the state of South Dakota and everyone damn well knew it.

The customer was silhouetted against the afternoon sun, standing next to what looked suspiciously like the fire chief's emergency response truck. When he saw Dean moving toward him, he stepped into the shade of the bay and Dean got his first look at him.

Most definitely _not_ the fire chief.

Dean had known Chief Rufus Turner almost as long as he'd known Bobby, and were he being generous, Dean would classify him as being on the same level of lovable asshole as his surrogate uncle. This man, however, was someone Dean had never seen before. He was nearly as tall as Dean and lean, with mussed dark hair and piercing eyes, and he was wearing fireman's overalls, stained with soot and mud, flecks of dried foam around the hems of the legs.

Dean's eyes nearly bugged out of his head when the guy kicked off his boots and began shucking the dirty yellow coveralls right in front of him.

"Ahhh," he said, tongue-tied and swallowing hard. _Smooth, Winchester._ "Can I help you?"

The guy tossed him a ring of keys, hopping on one leg when his foot got caught in the opening of the coarse canvas pants. He kicked them free and peeled his plain white t-shirt over his head, dropping it to the ground.

Dean blinked. He was more muscular than he had first appeared, all tight and sinewy, his slim hips cut sharply by a hard ridge of bone jutting out above the waistband of a faded pair of low-slung jeans.

"Clanking noise," the guy said, tilting his head toward the hood of the truck, as his fingers went to work unbuttoning his fly. His words were muffled when he leaned into the front seat. "Rufus said you would know what that meant." He emerged again holding what appeared to be a set of clean clothes. His jeans were now slipping precariously low on those pretty hips, and Dean licked his lips self-consciously.

"Um." _Shit._

The man did a little wiggle and sway in time to the swing of the driver's door closing, and the jeans slid to his ankles. He kicked them in the same general direction as the other garments before gliding across the concrete, spinning around Dean with a grin as he beat a hasty exit toward the waiting area. "Bathroom?"

"Yeah," Dean said, mouth dry. He cleared his throat but the guy had winked and gone before he could lift a hand to point him in the right direction. Dean's eyes followed the firm round contour of his backside as he jogged through the open door, and he stared open-mouthed at the empty room, wondering what the _fuck_ had just happened. He turned back to Rufus' truck, eyes falling to the pile of discarded fireman's gear.

And clothes. Discarded fireman's _clothes. _Dean swallowed again, remembering how the thin dark trail of hair low on the man's stomach had disappeared into—

"Why is there a naked guy in the waiting room," Ash asked.

"_Fuck_, Ash," Dean croaked, barely refraining from clutching his heart.

Ash shrugged, taking a long swig from the bottle of soda he was carrying. "Just seemed appropriate to clarify. I mean, I personally don't mind, dude's _fine,_ and I don't even swing that way, not usually, except that one time when –"

"Ash!"

"Okay, okay," Ash held up his hands. "You saw him first, I get it."

Dean reached up to rub at the headache suddenly blooming behind his right eye. "I didn't _see_ anything."

"Oh man, then you missed _out._" Ash's grin was wide and he whistled appreciatively.

"Just shut up and pull the truck into bay number two," Dean ground out, shoving the keys at Ash before he said something Dean wouldn't be able to unhear, like describe the finer details of the fireman's anatomy. _Had he really been naked? Like naked, naked, _Dean wondered, wincing at the hot little spurt ofenvy in his gut.

He might have walked past the waiting room window to a couple of times while he waited for Ash to move the truck. The man was nowhere to be seen, presumably in the restroom.

Grumbling under his breath, Dean stalked to the pile of clothes on the floor and started folding them, setting them on the nearest workbench.

"Just what I need, a goddamn _naked_ firefighter, as if I don't have enough to worry about, what with this goddamn birthday party, and Sam will _never_ let me live it down if I get drunk and spazz all over him. I mean, really? Stripping all his clothes off in front of a goddamn stranger? Who _does that_." Dean was still muttering when he slammed the man's boots on the table, rattling the tools laid out on the surface.

"Who does what?" The voice at his elbow was entirely too deep and entirely too close and Dean jumped a foot.

"Fuck!"

The man raised his eyebrows, hair damp and messy, a wrinkled black cotton button down hanging open. Dean wholly and completely avoided looking at the man's lean, bare abdomen. Except to make sure his fly was buttoned. So one quick glance, but that was it.

The man smiled when he saw the tidy stack of clothing, fingers quickly working the buttons on his shirt. "Hey, thanks." He gathered the pieces up, tilting his head to study Dean curiously. His eyes, Dean discovered, were a bright, clear blue. He opened his mouth to speak.

A horn sounded from the parking lot and the guy was sauntering off again, tucking the neatly folded garments under an arm, stepping into the waning sunlight. "One of us will be back for the truck later," he called over his shoulder.

Dean was still staring, struck dumb again when the occupant of a shiny silver BMW leaned out of the driver's window and lifted his face (_his_ face, _oh God_) for a long kiss hello.

"So he's wearing clothes now. Pity."

Dean didn't even bother hiding the need to clutch at his chest to keep his heart from jumping out of his throat. But his glare at Ash was hard and black, and he slammed the rest of his tools into the grooves in his toolbox, dropping the lid and clicking the lock shut tight. He gritted his teeth. "I'm going home."

Ash nodded, melancholy. "Yeah, man, it sucks don't it? All the good ones are taken."

Dean resisted the urge to scream.

Barely.

...

"So tell me again about this handsome firefighter," Sam drawled, leaning into his brother's shoulders, long, gangly arms crossed atop the small table. They were seated at their favorite booth in The Roadhouse, celebrating Sammy's thirtieth birthday. Sam had known almost immediately that he was distracted, stupid bastard with his innate ability to mind read his older brother. He had liquored Dean up with a few shots of Jose and Jack, seasoned with a brief visit from Captain Morgan, and Dean's resolve had crumbled like a house of cards.

Which was a typical Saturday night scenario. Dean had no idea why he had no willpower when it came to Sam and his damn puppy dog eyes, but it had always been so.

"Don't wanna talk 'bout it," he mumbled around the rim of his glass. He narrowed his eyes, gaze bleary, trying to focus on the Cuervo logo on the bottle in front of him. It might be a good idea to make the switch to beer now. "And shouldn't you go sit on the other side? People'll think we're gay."

Sam laughed, taking Dean's shot from his hand and throwing it back. "No one thinks we're gay. At least not me. You, on the other hand, are obviously overcompensating." He wagged his eyebrows. "Besides, Jo will be right back. I think she might let me in her panties tonight."

Dean snorted, shaking his head and pointedly ignoring the _overcompensating_ jab. _Sam_ was the one with hair long enough to braid and a trail of enamored residents, nurses and doctors alike following him at all waking hours. "You're fucked then, cause Jo will eat you alive."

"Stop using my name in vain," Jo said, sliding into the booth across from them. "And I'm _still_ not fucking you, Samuel Winchester. Give it up, already." She cocked her head. "Did you two sit there on the same side the whole time I was gone? Do you even _care_ anymore how gay you look?"

Dean choked on his drink.

"Aw, come on, Jo," Sam whined reaching across the table to grab at her hand. He laughed when she twisted it violently but was unable to escape his giant man-paw. "It's my birthday!"

Jo rolled her eyes. "And you're so drunk you couldn't get it up if you tried. Besides," she grimaced, wrinkling her nose. "It'd be like sleeping with my brother."

Dean chuckled, blinking the water from his eyes. He inclined his head toward Sam. "I'm not so sure he cares."

"Gross, Dean," Sam managed before he staggered from the booth. "I'm going to go dance."

"Yeah, you do that," Dean grinned, watching his brother's too long limbs stumble over a hot young thing who was instantly charmed. Lucky fucker. It was the puppy dog eyes. Worked every time. He winced.

"I gotta pee. Jo, watch the table."

"Why do I have to watch the table," Jo complained, but she was still sitting there when Dean glanced back as he rounded the corner of the smoky hallway. In the men's room, he did his business, trying hard to focus on the hairline cracks that formed a snaky pattern down the wall behind the urinal, hoping he wouldn't topple over and embarrass himself. Ellen would never let him live it down if he passed out in her bathroom. Hell, she'd probably take photos and hang them on the wall behind the cash register. Ellen Harvelle was not only the proprietress of the Roadhouse and Jo's mom, she was the closest thing to a mother Dean and Sam had had since they were kids.

She was also the stubbornest, meanest, most foul-mouthed woman Dean had ever met. And he loved her like nobody's business. So did Sam. And Bobby, although none of them talked about _that. _Bobby had been pining after Ellen for as long as Dean could remember, and as far as he could tell, the old fart's pecker was going to fall off from disuse before he ever found the balls to ask the lady barkeep out on a date.

Ellen, while easily the smartest woman Dean knew, was oblivious to this vastly important, incredibly frustrating state of unrequited love. For years Dean had watched, exasperated, while Bobby had sat at Ellen's bar, making small talk, getting into one crazy lame ass argument after another before stomping home to eat ramen noodles or tomato soup alone in his kitchen.

_Idiot_, Dean smirked to himself. Aw, hell. Maybe one of these days Sam would finally loosen his tight ass and let Dean send Ellen a giant bouquet of roses or tulips, with a sappy handwritten poem signed: _Love to see you naked, Bobby. _

Dean's eyes trailed the cracks in the chipped blue paint to the ceiling and back to the stainless steel pipes of the urinal. The crazing reminded him of a river on a map and he wondered if the heavy porcelain piece was just going to fall from the concrete block wall some day, crash into the floor below. He glanced down at the tile and noted a pair of boots next to his.

"Oh," he jumped; he hadn't noticed anyone come in after him. When he looked up, he found two bright blue eyes gazing back.

"Hi." The firefighter grinned, shaking his dick enthusiastically before tucking himself back into his jeans. Dean absolutely did not sneak a peek.

But he recognized that happy trail.

He fumbled to do up his fly, flustered, and wished like hell he wasn't hopelessly drunk; he was probably going to say something idiotic.

"Where's the douchebag?" _Christ, _he winced; his tongue, as usual, was a hairsbreadth ahead of his brain.

The man laughed and the happy sound echoed off the metal walls of the adjacent stalls.

"Um, sorry," Dean muttered, turning hastily to the sink to wash his hands. He was surprised to find the firefighter crowding against him, one arm snaking in front of him to make a swipe at the liquid soap dispenser. They washed their hands companionably and Dean noted that the fireman's fingernails stubbornly held a little bit of dirt and grime too; he could never quite get his fingernails completely clean and although it was probably prejudiced, he couldn't help feeling a little suspicious of anyone who _could._

Except Sam, of course. Sam was going to be a surgeon, already in his third year of residency, and Sammy's hands were always immaculate. As they should be.

Dean handed the guy a wad of paper towels.

He took them, eyes twinkling back at Dean in the mirror above the sink.

Their movements slowed, then stopped as they each dropped the damp paper into the wastebasket. Dean shifted from one foot to the next, mind suddenly blank of anything except, '_I've never seen eyes that color.'_ Yeah, he wasn't firing on all cylinders tonight.

He squeaked when the man suddenly turned into his personal space, and in two short steps had Dean backed up against the wall by the paper towel dispenser. He held him there, hips pinning him into place as his lips fastened on Dean's with unerring precision. _He clearly hasn't had as much to drink as me_, was Dean's last conscious thought, because the guy was sucking into his mouth, tongue tracing the contours of his teeth, swallowing Dean's surprised moan.

Dean rolled his hips up instinctively and the man hissed, grinding him harder into the chipped paint. He had Dean's cock trapped against his own, and increased the blessed friction of denim on denim with short, tiny thrusts, timing each slide to the whimpers that fell from Dean's lips.

"Fuck me," Dean breathed, seeing stars when his head banged against the concrete blocks. The handsome stranger nudged Dean's chin higher so he could suck at his neck, dragging his mouth along the edges of Dean's stubble. It made an unfamiliar rasping sound where it scraped against his teeth and Dean shivered. He nosed Dean's ear, his hips gentling, dropping one of Dean's wrists where he held it pinned against the wall (_when did he do that,_ Dean wondered breathlessly). He exhaled long and hot and moist on Dean's neck and his tongue darted out to catch a stray bead of sweat. He lapped at the spot once, twice, before kissing Dean's throat softly, gently, then sucking the skin hard between his teeth. Dean groaned loud and long and _goddammit_, he was going to come in his pants. He could feel the blood pooling beneath the bite and he knew he was going to have one hell of a mark come morning. _Please, Jesus, let me remember how I got it,_ Dean prayed.

"Wait," he shook his head, but his movements belied his words because he was nuzzling the man's soft, dark hair with his cheek, and their fingers had entwined at some point, the man's thumb stroking small circles on the back of Dean's had.

The man lifted his head and Dean blew out the breath he had been holding, long and slow. _Christ._ His eyes were nearly black, pupils blown, and his lips were a deep, rose red. Dean leaned forward and nipped at his full lower lip, head swimming with desire but also threaded through with something resembling affection. "I don't even know your name," he chuckled and squeezed the man's hand. _And I'm drunk and I don't know what I'm doing, and I've never actually kissed a guy before. Except for Gabe, but that was mistletoe and Gabe's an ass—_

"They call me the fireman," the man sang, slightly off key, and interrupting Dean's internal monologue.

Dean grinned and told himself to shut the fuck up.

The _fireman_ kissed him, long and deep, encouraging audience participation when his tongue darted into Dean's mouth. Dean felt the same heady, needful buzz that had started this afternoon in the garage reappear with a vengeance, growing and expanding across his belly. He pushed gently against the hips aligned with his own, bringing his back off the wall as their lips broke apart. "Dean." He offered his name in a whisper against his cheek.

The man smiled and blinked those gorgeous eyes twice, rapidly. "Castiel," he said and _good grief,_ Dean had forgotten how deep his voice was. It bumped along all of his nerve endings, waking up the sparse few who hadn't joined the party yet.

They stared at each other, smiling for a long moment before Castiel stepped back, releasing everything but Dean's hand. "You want to get out of here?"

Dean almost nodded and then he remembered. "Douchebag?"

Castiel laughed. "Dumped him."

Dean grinned and pushed into Castiel's personal space again. "Then let's get out of here." _Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshit. _ Dean had no idea what he was doing, but he was flying so high he couldn't be bothered to care.

They tumbled through the bathroom door, staggering together down the hall, and Dean wasn't entirely sure how they made it back to the booth seeing how neither seemed able to tear his eyes off the other. They stopped only long enough for Dean to sling back the rest of the liquid in the bottom of Sam's shot glass and grab the half-full bottle from the table. He gave Jo a saucy wink.

He jumped when Castiel fondled his ass.

Dean couldn't tell if Jo was ogling the hot guy beside him or trying to send Dean a message, with her mouth hanging open like that. He couldn't say as he blamed her; Castiel was _smoking_ hot, all dark, messy hair (made messier by Dean's own hand) and taut little hips that moved so gracefully it almost made Dean cry. And then there were the sex eyes. And the sex voice. Although Jo hadn't heard that yet.

_Nor will she,_ Dean thought grumpily, jerking Castiel by the hand and leading him between the tables. He pointedly ignored the raised eyebrows of the Roadhouse patrons. He hadn't been lying to himself earlier when he'd said he'd never kissed a man before. Dean Winchester didn't _do_ guys.

Or at least he didn't before.

"Happy birthday, Sammy," he called to his brother, who was currently spinning around the dance floor with a starry-eyed blonde. He snickered when Sam blinked at him in shock, missing his cue and trampling the girl's foot.

In the parking lot, the two men stopped, drawn up short by the cool night air. "I didn't drive," Dean remembered sadly. Jo had been assigned DD status, since it was Sammy's birthday and Dean was having a "big gay freakout" as she had so eloquently put it.

"Oh," Castiel said, straightening. "Me neither." He shrugged and began to walk, tugging Dean's hand and pulling him behind him. "So we'll walk."

"Walk?" Dean's feet moved without his permission, seemingly as drawn to the man as the rest of Dean's anatomy was. "How far?"

Castiel squeezed his fingers, smiling over his shoulder. "Don't pout," he warned, seeing Dean's grumpy expression. He yanked hard on Dean's arm to draw him close, catching Dean's lower lip between his teeth in a sharp bite. "You're too fucking sexy the way it is."

Dean's head swam. _Damn._ He was normally the aggressor in a relationship, at least in a sexual one. He didn't have much experience of any other variety. He reached up and grabbed the back of Castiel's head when he started to pull away, neatly turning his face until it was positioned the way he liked, better for controlling the angle and the pressure of the kiss he planted on his mouth. Castiel hummed his approval, dropping his hands to Dean's hips and squeezing.

"So where are we going, cause I gotta tell you, that bush over there is looking mighty cozy," Castiel whispered in Dean's ear.

Dean took another swig of the tequila and held the bottle to Castiel's lips unsteadily. They both laughed when it dribbled from his chin.

"Again," he insisted, guiding Dean's hand back to his mouth. Dean carefully poured the liquor between the full lips, squirming when Cas turned and pressed into him for a kiss, part of the tequila transferring between them. Dean groaned as his cock jumped in approval.

"Fuck, yes," he murmured, swallowing, licking into Cas' mouth again, sucking every bit of tequila from the nooks and crannies of his cheeks.

Castiel growled, slamming their hips together and grinding his forehead against Dean's. "Bed. Now."

Dean huffed a laugh and thought frantically_. _"I can't do you a bed, but how do you feel about a cot in the back of the body shop?"

"_Christ_, cot, floor, sleeping bag. Just get flat and get ready because I want to fuck you at some point tonight."

Dean's stomach jumped with nervous excitement. He gave Castiel a quick kiss. "Come on then." He began to walk, purposefully keeping at least a foot between their bodies. "And stop touching me."

Cas snorted. "You started it."

"Uh, no. I didn't," Dean huffed, insulted.

"You were standing there half naked, looking like a goddamn Greek god. How was I supposed to resist that?" Cas grinned.

"I was taking a piss," Dean said incredulously. "_You_ were the one who stripped down to your skivvies in the garage."

"Mmm," Cas murmured, swinging close with his next step, head dipping next to Dean's. "_God,_ you looked amazing, all sweaty and dirty, and _fuck,_ ten kinds of sexy." He licked at Dean's earlobe and Dean had to twist his head away, fighting to stay focused on walking. Right foot. Left foot. He thought he was doing pretty good until the world tilted and he realized he was swaying.

Castiel's hand grabbed Dean's hip and he squeezed the tight denim, steadying him. "I thought I was going to have to jerk off in the fucking bathroom, thinking about you standing right outside the door."

Dean swallowed. "Cas," he warned, pants achingly tight, the man's full name too much for his thick tongue. "Fucking _bastard."_

Castiel chuckled and leaned away again, providing some much-needed distance and Dean took a deep, cleansing breath. His head was still hazy and he wondered what the _hell_ he was doing. He might be drunk off his ass, but he was still sober enough to realize this felt way different than your typical Saturday night special.

Singer Salvage loomed in front of them as they turned the last corner and Cas sighed in relief.

"Thank God." He quickened his step, grabbing Dean's hand.

Dean chuckled, letting him pull him along. He dug in his pocket for his keys; the front door key was apt to stick and his hands were trembling, not to mention he was horny as hell. It might take a few tries to get the door open.

Which needed to be done, like, yesterday, because Cas was now draped over his back as he bent over the doorknob, and he breathed into Dean's ear, rubbing his groin against his ass. "Hurry," he urged.

Dean slid the key home and turned the lock. He hadn't even reached for the light before Cas was slamming the door shut behind them and attacking Dean's mouth, kissing him hot and wet, tongue mimicking the roll of his hips, sinking into him with light strokes. His fingers edged under the hem of Dean's t-shirt, urging it up, pausing, rapt when Dean's nipples appeared. He aggressively pushed the shirt to Dean's elbows, and Dean's laughter was muffled, head caught in the neck hole. He gasped when Cas' mouth closed over one dusky pink nub and began to suck.

"Cas," Dean groaned, scrambling to remove the tee, the suffocating blindness enhancing the sensation of warm lips on his skin.

Cas's mouth grazed unhurriedly across his chest, ignoring Dean's pleas and the wild tugging at his ears. His fingers worked the buttons of Dean's fly free and he pushed the jeans off his hips.

Dean decided to stop fighting for control and let Cas take lead, since _Christ almighty,_ he was doing a _fantastic_ job. He wiggled a foot, shucking his jeans, hissing when Cas cupped his sex, squeezing him lightly.

"Are you hard for me, baby," Cas whispered against his chest, mouth beginning to skate lower, pebbling along the ridge of muscle in Dean's abdomen as he dropped to his knees.

Dean began to pant. "Yes. _Yes,_" he breathed, willingly going when Cas pulled him down to the cold, waiting room floor, cots and blankets and other so-called niceties no longer mattering.

He lifted his hips at the urging of Cas' fingertips, letting him peel his boxers carefully back, Dean' cock bobbing free, slapping against his stomach. Cas smiled a wicked grin, and Dean groaned when he bent low to kiss the tip before pushing the boxers the rest of the way from Dean's legs.

Which was the point Dean realized he was lying ass naked on Bobby's waiting room floor and Cas was still entirely clothed.

"Cas," he whined, hands reaching, pulling. "Clothes."

Cas smiled again, mouthing kisses along Dean's inner thigh, hooking a knee over his shoulder. "Shut up, Dean," he growled. "Just lie back and enjoy the ride." Each kiss got closer and closer to the juncture of Dean's hip and thigh and Dean tensed, panting as he waited for Cas to touch him, or _please Jesus, _take him in his mouth. But Cas skirted the endgame each and every time, ducking away at the last moment, chuckling when Dean groaned his objection, batting his hands away if he tried to touch himself.

"For the love of _Christ",_ Dean moaned, fingernails scraping against the cool linoleum tile floor. "At least take your goddamn clothes off, _please._"

Cas licked one long, wet strip up the underside of Dean's cock, pausing to tongue the head before sucking it between his lips in a sweet, open-mouthed kiss.

Dean nearly swallowed his tongue when their eyes met.

"Okay," Cas whispered, sitting up, gently replacing Dean's leg on the floor. Dean whimpered again, disliking the increasing distance between his cock and Cas' mouth, and his fuzzy, sex and alcohol-fueled brain tried to remember exactly _why_ he had asked Cas to stop?

Then Cas began to unbutton his shirt, languid, slow pushes of the pearl buttons between neatly stitched holes, another inch of skin revealed in the opening vee with each one.

_Oh. _

Now Dean remembered.

He reached a finger out to trail the dark line of hair when it appeared, pausing at the button of Cas' jeans. Their eyes held. Dean leveraged up on his left elbow and unbuttoned Cas' fly with one hand, thinking he could drown in a blue that deep. The corner of his mouth lifted when Cas' pupils blew even wider and his lips parted on a soft gasp when Dean's fingers dipped into the open fly and touched him. _Bout fucking time,_ Dean smirked. This had been a one-sided party for long enough.

Cas raked the shirt from his arms and tossed it behind him. He let Dean push his jeans and boxers past his knees, wiggling his hips in assistance before lowering himself slowly against Dean's chest. They smiled into each other's mouths when their feet tangled as they tried to kick Cas' clothes aside. Dean sighed happily when finally, _finally_, their cocks slid together, slick and hot and _perfect._

Cas moved against him, pumping his hips in an excruciatingly slow drag back and forth until Dean was clawing at his lower back, pressing them tighter and tighter together.

Cas panted against his neck, kissing him gently. "Do you have anything?"

Dean screwed his eyes shut as his stomach clenched and knotted around a feverish burst of sensation that was _so good. _

His reaction was delayed and Cas chuckled against his neck.

"Dean," he whispered again.

Dean shook his head. "I don't." He nearly cried. _Holy mother of... _ Of all the nights to go out unprepared.

Cas sat up on his elbows, bracketing Dean's chest and smiling at him. "I have one. So we better make this good." He kissed Dean's lips, tacky and soft and already overworked. "You or me, handsome?"

Dean flushed, hoping his sex-charged skin was already so pink that in the dark, Cas wouldn't notice his discomfort. "I've never," he trailed off, swallowing the plain vanilla sex confession that threatened to babble forth. He felt around for the bottle of tequila and leaned up when he found it, taking a long swig, their jaws bumping when he swallowed.

"You've never? Ever?" Cas' eyes were huge in his face and he rocked back, kneeling between Dean's open knees.

Dean rubbed a palm across his eyes, mortified. "Sorry?" He shrugged up at Cas with a sheepish grin and passed him the bottle. Cas took his own long drink, then pushed Dean back to the floor, bending over to let some of the tequila dribble into Dean's navel. Dean squirmed at the warm slow trickle of liquid that escaped when his stomach muscles shook. One errant bead ran straight down his groin and Cas followed it, licking and sucking up what remained. Dean carded his fingers through his hair as his cocked twitched precariously near Cas' mouth.

He considered again how close he was to tears; as in, if Cas didn't touch him or suck him or _goddammit, _fuck him already, he was going to end up a blubbering, sobbing mess. "You," he whispered, writhing between Cas' arms, pushing his stomach higher, crashing up into those teasing, warm lips.

Cas licked his navel again, continuing down the same narrow, wet path as the drip of tequila, teasing the head of Dean's cock with one delicate swipe, then another. He shook his head sitting up and Dean's heart sank. _Please sweet baby Jesus, don't say no. _

"I don't think I'd last long enough to prep you, Dean," Cas said in that sex-rough voice, running a hand down slowly up Dean's thigh. "Not for your first time." He bent and kissed the inside of his knee and Dean's heart fluttered at the gentleness.

"Cas," he whispered, tugging at his arms.

Cas slid away, reaching for his jeans, pulling a wallet from the hip pocket. He produced a single foil-wrapped packet with a triumphant grin and crawled back between Dean's legs.

"I, on the other hand," he smirked, pausing to suck Dean down in one long swallow, drawing a hoarse shout from Dean's throat before he popped off and began to fist him, pumping slow and steady. "I don't need anything but your cock. Inside me. Right now."

He ripped into the foil with his teeth and Dean thought it quite possible he had never seen anything hotter in his entire fucking life. He had to close his eyes when Cas began to roll the condom into place, too close, too needy, near frantic in anticipation of the hot, tight heat of Cas surrounding him. He fought for control, hands automatically clinging to Cas' hips when he finally straddled him.

Cas let out a long, luscious groan when he lowered himself onto Dean. It was wrung from his lips along with a breathless sigh and Dean scrambled for his hand, needing more contact.

Dean fought to keep his eyes open, the pleasure too intense, too much. He was already _so close._ He stilled, letting Cas get used to the fullness, hips wanting to thrust and pump and posses. He fought back the urge to laugh; he had started this thinking he was letting Cas take the lead and here the man had handed him back the reins, only Dean didn't have a clue what he was doing.

His body did, though, and it begged for release. He exhaled in relief when Cas nodded, cheeks pink with exertion, lips parted.

"Now, Dean. Move," Cas ordered and that throaty growl was almost enough to send Dean over the edge all by itself.

Dean pulled almost all the way out, then slid home again, jaw clenched tight, brain scrambled; there were no words for how good this felt. He repeated the motion, loving like hell the breathless little gasps Cas was making, and the low-pitched keening groan dragged from his throat each time Dean was fully seated.

Then Cas began to move in earnest, dipping forward, angle shifting, crying out on a particularly nimble thrust and Dean knew he had found the secret. He hit it again and again, relentless, watching Cas fall apart above him. The firefighter's chest was flushed, a rosy pink glow that started at his hips, where he and Dean were intimately joined, rising until it colored his cheeks. His eyes were half-lidded, lower lip held delicately between his teeth, kiss-swollen and red. Dean strained his neck forward to meet his mouth, smiling when Cas kissed him, tongue messy and slick, uncoordinated and desperate.

"Dean," Cas moaned, rhythm beginning to stutter. He panted against Dean's stubbled cheek.

"Sit up, Cas," Dean whispered, urging him up. "I want to see you."

Cas obliged, but he was boneless, allowing Dean to position him exactly the way he wanted him. Dean reached between Cas' legs and began to pet him gently, fingers toying with his hardness, lightly dragging across the leaking tip. Cas cried out, the first hint of orgasm peaking and Dean fisted the base of his cock, withholding his release, and began to thrust his hips harder. He wanted to come with him, and he wasn't there yet.

"Dean," Cas begged, head falling back, hands scrambling for purchase, one finding Dean's fingers again and holding on, painfully tight.

Dean slammed into him, thighs burning, and there, he could feel it, vision blacking around the edges as the orgasm punched through him. He came with a shout, almost forgetting to release his death grip on Cas' cock. He pumped his hips in time to his fist, the movements not as pretty or as calculated as Cas' initial ones had been, but Cas didn't seem to mind, Dean's name falling from his lips in a long, sinfully hot drag of sound as he came over Dean's fingers.

Dean's smile widened, hand slick and wet and not caring two fucks about the mess when Cas collapsed on top of him in a heavy, exhausted heap.

He chuckled, letting go of Cas' hand in order to push the hair back from his sweaty forehead, softly kissing the smooth skin.

Cas blinked open his eyes.

"Hi," Dean whispered, grinning. He was damn near throbbing _everywhere; _even his bones felt liquid and warm.

Cas flushed even deeper and hid his face in Dean's neck. Dean was fascinated by it; the timidity was quite a change from the warrior of a few moments ago. "You okay," he asked softly.

Cas nodded, kissing Dean's lips in a chaste press of mouths, a tiny flick of tongue a gentle reminder of its former wickedness. It was sweet and almost reverent, and it made Dean's chest ache just a little.

"You _are_ a god," Cas breathed into his ear, sliding off of Dean and wincing at the cold floor.

Dean laughed softly. "I think you have me confused with someone else. I'm just a mechanic." He stopped Cas' retreat with a hand on his hip, tucking him close into his side.

Cas groaned. "Oh _fuck_," he cringed playfully. "Don't remind me. I won't be able to get it up again for _days._"

Dean rolled over and threw an arm around his waist. "Days," he murmured, brushing Cas' lips with his. "_Days_?"

Cas snorted. "Ok, maybe hours. But meanwhile do_ not_ remind me of how incredible you look all hot and dirty and sweaty, and—" he had to stop, gasping, and thrust his tongue in Dean's mouth, kissing him deep.

Dean combed his fingers through his hair, pressing their bodies together knee to shoulder when Cas shivered. He ran his palm up and down his back, warming the rapidly cooling skin. "Ok, I'll pretend I'm always clean and tidy. Would that help?"

"It makes me wish we had a shower," Cas grimaced, glancing down. "We're sticky."

Dean yawned, head pillowed on one arm. "In a minute," he mumbled, eyes drifting closed. He blinked when he felt the soft press of fingertips on his dick. "Mmm, what are you up to down there?"

Cas chuckled. "Just making you more comfortable." He finished removing the condom and tied it off, tossing it expertly into a trashcan by the door.

Then he was back, warm and smooth against Dean's front, smelling like tequila and something else, spicy and familiar, but Dean was asleep before he could finish mulling over what that scent might be.

...

Dean woke up bleary eyed and shivering, ass frozen on the hard tile floor of the Singer Salvage and Autobody shop.

He was also completely alone.

He winced as he gingerly sat up, each movement threatening to split his head in two. He glanced around him, but there was no trace of the sexy firefighter he had fallen asleep beside. _Cas._ He blanched when his stomach lurched, and he grabbed for his jeans. The sun was beginning to peek over the edge of the treeline, the pink-hued dawn casting the waiting room a lovely shade of rose. Dean stood, swallowing back the bile that churned in his gut.

There wasn't even a goddamned note.

He locked the door behind him and began to walk home, stomach rolling, head aching, brain fuzzy; fast-fading memories a jumble of too-amazing sex and pretty blue eyes and an empty bottle of tequila.

Dean was left to wonder: Just how much of it was real?

...


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note:**__ Have I mentioned you guys are my favorite? You are. You're my favorite. Here's some Dean with five-year-old's because Awww man, Dean with babies. My personal kink. I seasoned with firefighter. You're welcome.  
_

...

Monday morning was a true _Monday_ in every sense of the word. First, Dean burned his thumb on the iron while he was pressing his pants. He typically wore khaki's to work, except on Friday's when the dress code was more relaxed and he could wear jeans. Frankly, when you spent your days crawling around in the dirt or on the floor with a bunch of five-year-olds (and that included the occasional trip into the tube slide to coax a frozen kindergartner from its center-most point) Dean was of the opinion you should be allowed to wear jeans _every_ day. Some days he was terrifically envious of the physical education teachers with their nylon shorts and polo shirts.

Almost immediately after he had applied burn salve to his thumb, he dropped his favorite coffee mug in the sink, shattering it, a stray shard flying up to prick his cheekbone. The resulting blood dripped onto his pale green plaid shirt (not a great loss, he hated pastels) necessitating a quick change. Unfortunately, when you spend the majority of your Sunday nursing a hangover (and sore feelings from being discarded naked on the floor of an auto-body shop waiting room), your laundry doesn't get done and you find yourself down to one pair of clean pants and one decent shirt.

Out of time, Dean resorted to an old denim button down that had clearly seen better days, but it was clean and didn't need the iron, and as soon as he shrugged into it, he felt better. The fabric was worn and soft and it clung to the contours of his arms and chest like a second skin. He didn't even bother tucking it in before racing out the door, grabbing a banana and the brown paper bag Sammy had packed for his lunch on his way through the kitchen.

Thank God for little brothers who woke at the crack of dawn for an early hospital shift. And who made your lunch.

Although, knowing Sam, it had something completely inedible in it, like bean sprouts.

He grimaced at his reflection in the rearview mirror of his black Chevy impala as the motor roared to life. Sam, thinking he was beyond cute, had brought home a lifetime supply of zoo animal Band-Aids when he was in his pediatric residency. Dean was currently wearing a panda bear over his cheekbone, covering the shallow cut.

He looked ridiculous.

He backed out of the drive carefully, muttering. "I am a professional. A teacher. I mold young minds into the promise of the future."

He could have sworn the panda bear winked at him when he glanced in the mirror before turning onto the highway.

...

"Mr. Winchester! Mr. Winchester!" The little voices surrounded him at dropoff.

"Good morning," he smiled. His tiny charges dutifully lined up behind him, eyes wide and innocent, some of them carefully watching the very sophisticated third graders walking _alone _up the sidewalk to the building next door.

Mary Margaret was sucking her thumb and he reached down to pull it out of her mouth, smoothing a hand over her tidy pigtail. "Let's try no thumbs, today, Em. Okay?"

Mary Margaret nodded solemnly, but her hands twitched at her sides, fidgeting with the hem of her pink t-shirt. Dean smiled encouragingly and she squinted up at him.

"What happened to your face?"

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?" He ran his fingers over his cheeks and flushed when he realized he had forgotten to remove the Band-Aid before he got out of the car. He squatted down so he was eye level with her. "Well, I cut myself this morning."

"How?" She almost stuck her thumb in her mouth, but remembered and lowered it. Dean felt a swell of pride.

"I dropped my coffee cup and it busted into a hundred pieces," he said sorrowfully.

"Oh." Mary Margaret studied him carefully and Dean could practically see the wheels turning in her little mind. She glanced away and then looked up at him through thick black lashes. "I like that Band-Aid."

_Little flirt,_ Dean smiled to himself. "I might have another one in my desk," he whispered conspiratorially.

Her eyes lit up. "You do?"

"Mmm hmm." Dean stood back up. He was either completely out of shape or he was literally getting too old for this. His thighs were sore, like he'd run a marathon. He caught his scowl before it had a chance to erupt, remembering a very recent strenuous activity that required the controlled use of his thigh muscles. _Goddammit_.

"I don't have to cut myself, do I," she asked warily.

Dean laughed. "No, Em. You be a good girl and do all of your sight words this morning and I think there will be a panda Band-Aid in it for you."

He was still grinning at her when Lisa Braeden, one of his fellow kindergarten teachers walked up. "You spoil them," she chided, but her expression was fond.

"Spare the rod, raise a doctor," Dean joked, thinking of Sam and all the nights he had made peanut butter and jelly or mac and cheese for dinner while Bobby worked late.

The peal of a bell signaled the start of the school week and Dean led his kindergarteners into the building, little feet pattering single-file down the hall. He held the door open while they filed in, some of them still subdued and sleepy, some chattering busily about weekend adventures while they hung their tiny backpacks on the hooks below their names.

Dean watched as each pair of hands brought up a homework folder to his desk and laid it in the basket there. One little boy hesitated at his knee.

"Deric?"

Deric carefully placed his folder in the basket and then spread his lips wide, tongue poking at his center incisor. The tiny ivory tooth flipped out at an unnatural angle.

"My toof is loof," Deric mumbled around his tongue.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. "I can see that. You should try not to poke at it though. You wouldn't want to lose it if it fell out here at school, would you?" He stopped short of promising a visit from the tooth fairy. _Did parents still do that? _

Deric considered Dean's words. "I have a pocket," he said sliding his hand into said pant opening.

Dean nodded. "True. Just the same, try to leave it alone for now, okay?"

The other children had listened to this exchange, spellbound, and Dean sighed to himself. Calendar math was first up on his lesson plan, but it looked like he would be doing a little impromptu dental lesson first. He had the children sit in the storytime circle, and they buzzed excitedly; it was only the first week of October but they already knew the classroom routine and storytime wasn't until after lunch.

Dean opened his supply closet and found the oversized jaw and tooth display. There was more than one perk to having a doctor for a sibling, like the crazy models Sam brought home for Dean's classroom. He now had an assortment of giant body part demonstrables, including a two-foot toothbrush that he would use later in the year when they learned about personal hygiene. He called Deric to the front and let the boy demonstrate the looseness of his tooth, pointing out the same tooth on the model.

He smiled as he saw several tongues poking against lips and cheeks, searching for anything that might wiggle. Deric was already six; most of Dean's students were still five, but by the end of the school year the majority would indeed have lost their first tooth. It made him a little sad to think about it. They were just babies, really, but soon they would be smelly, rowdy third graders, walking confidently up the sidewalk all on their own.

"Okay, now. Back to your regular seats. We have to do a shortened math calendar today, because we are having a surprise visitor after lunch."

The children's already excited chatter kicked up a notch at that.

It grew when he passed out the first worksheet of the day. "You will need your crayons."

"My daddy is a fireman," Paige announced triumphantly when she saw the line drawing of a fire truck. She pulled a deep red crayon from her box. "He lets me ride in the truck sometimes."

The other students were suitably impressed, eyebrows raised in envy.

Dean nodded; he had met Paige's dad several times; he was at a different station than Rufus. Dean and Sam had spent many a youthful afternoon sliding down the fireman's pole while Rufus and Bobby played cards around the rickety old table in the back of the station. He didn't share that with his class though, lest they go home and relay the story. Dean had been lucky that he didn't suffer _too_ much prejudice as a male kindergarten teacher. He still felt at times that he was watched extra closely by both staff and parents alike, for any slipup or mishap.

It was bad enough he was having some delayed guilt about his weekend adventure. Dean didn't usually get quite so crazy on his days off; he was always mindful of his profession and his duty to be a good example of morally upstanding behavior. _Bobby_ may snort in amusement at the idea whenever it came up at family dinners, but all in all, Dean really did try to live a clean life.

He definitely hadn't made a habit of picking up handsome strangers in bar bathrooms.

He walked around the tables, murmuring encouragement as his tiny charges crayoned (mostly) inside the lines of their cartoon fire trucks. Afterward, they ate a snack of fruit and cheddar crackers while Dean hung their finished artwork on the clothesline he had tacked to a bulletin board.

"It's a very important week," Dean told them after they had returned to their seats. He passed out fire truck stickers and instructed them to place it on today's date in their calendar. "It's fire safety week, _all_ over the United States."

He might as well have said Timbuktu for all the little ones cared. They had a sticker and they were intent on adhering it to their paper, pudgy, round fingers struggling to hold the shiny truck without touching the sticky back, more than one tongue held tight between front teeth. Dean grinned. He loved kindergarteners. They followed his direction without question and gave back unconditional loyalty and affection. He wondered idly when was the last time he had followed someone's implicit instruction without needing to know _why_.

They passed the rest of the morning counting fire trucks and fire hydrants and helmets and spotted dogs. Dean's classroom aide came to take the children to P.E. and then to lunch and Dean had an hour to himself, to eat and get ready for the afternoon. He decided to stay at his desk for lunch.

Gabriel Goodwin was his closest friend at the school (Sammy being his closet friend, period). Gabe taught second grade upstairs, but he was away at a literacy conference for the next few days. The rest of the staff was predominantly female, which hampered Dean's attempts at maintaining simple coworker relationships. There were other teachers whose company Dean enjoyed, like Lisa (who he had considered dating on more than one occasion), but today he was out of sorts. The peace and quiet of his classroom would be a balm to the shitty start to his day.

And if he could get through the planned afternoon tour of a real fire engine, without thinking about how up close and personal he'd been to one of Sioux Falls' finest firefighters Saturday night, he might actually have a chance of surviving the week.

...

The truck was massive, and it gleamed a flawless, brilliant red in the afternoon sun. Dean and Lisa's kindergarteners were absolutely enthralled.

Then _Lisa_ was enthralled when the firefighter hopped down from the driver's seat with a wide grin, yellow slicker and canvas overalls in place. All he was missing was the helmet.

And a bottle of tequila.

_Sonofabitch. _Dean ground his teeth together.

Cas lifted one eyebrow in surprise when his eyes landed on Dean, and he pulled his gloves off, slow and cautious. The motion instantly reminded Dean of the careful, unhurried way he had unbuttoned his shirt. While straddling Dean's naked hips.

Dean took an uneasy step behind Lisa and shoved her forward with a hand in the small of her back.

Lisa stumbled and frowned at him in consternation. Dean shook his head, eyes pleading.

"Welcome to Meyer's Elementary," she said cheerfully, ignoring Dean and swapping places with Cas so that she stood on his other side, leaving Dean to his own defenses. "I'm Ms. Braeden, and this is Mr. Winchester."

Dean was forced to reach forward when Cas leaned toward him, arm outstretched.

"Mr. Winchester," Cas murmured, grinning cheekily.

"Mr. _I don't know your last name,_" Dean whispered too low for anyone else to hear. His neck was hot and he knew he was blushing because _goddamn,_ Cas looked amazing, all bright blue eyes and firm, strong jaw, and he had climbed out of a _fucking_ _fire truck_ for God's sake. How was Dean supposed to deal with that? How was _anyone_? It shouldn't be allowed.

Lisa was studying the two of them, mystified, and Dean realized he was still holding Cas' hand. He dropped it quickly, scraping his palms nervously on his pants.

"So," Cas clapped his hands together and faced the children, effectively turning his back on Dean.

_Jackass,_ Dean thought.

"Today is the first day of fire safety week." Cas' deep voice was animated and his enthusiasm was contagious. The children crowded closer, drawn to his magnetism.

Dean noticed his own feet moving and ground to a halt. _Stop that._

Of course he found that his new position, behind Cas, was no better than being in front, especially not after Cas shrugged out of his slicker, tossing it to Dean who caught it on reflex. He stood there stunned for three long seconds before he scowled.

He would have gladly thrown it to the ground and stomped on it, but he was trying to set a good example for the children. So he was forced to hold it. He _did not_ bring it close to his face to see if he really was detecting a scent over the smell of vinyl and smoke, something pinging a memory way back in the recesses of his—

Lisa cleared her throat.

Dean ignored the pointedly curious looks she was throwing him, in between the flirtatiously engaged smiles she was giving Cas, each one like a little stab of ugly heat in Dean's gut. He thought they might be saying _'Mine'._

"Mr. Winchester will demonstrate."

Dean's head jerked up. _Aw fuck. What had he missed?_

Cas was watching him with a bemused expression and he waved at the ground in front of him with a flourish. "Stop, drop and roll, Mr. Winchester?"

Thirty-two pairs of eyes were trained on Dean, the _only_ thing that prevented him from plunging his fist into the smug bastard's face. Well, that, and the fact that Dean was only ninety-eight percent certain he could actually touch Cas without cramming his tongue down his throat.

Cas winked.

Make that ninety-two percent.

"Of course," Dean said with a tight smile, eyes hard and glittering.

He shoved the slicker into Cas' stomach with more force than necessary, the firefighter's soft grunt eliciting a satisfied thrill.

Dean squatted on his heels, waiting while Cas explained the importance of getting to safety in the event of a fire. His fingers brushed the top of Dean's head as he spoke and Dean steeled himself against the immediate fluttering increase of his pulse rate. He jumped when Cas squatted next to him, one hand sinking low on his back.

"But if you can't get out, the safest place for you to be is on the floor, away from the smoke. And if your clothing _does_ catch on fire," Cas paused, letting the seriousness of the words sink in before continuing. "Then you can put the fire out all by yourself by dropping to the ground," he pushed Dean forward and Dean caught himself on his hands, a rock biting into his palm. _Jerk. _"Then rolling vigorously from side to side to put out the flames." He nudged Dean's hip with his knee and Dean reached back to swat him away.

He tucked his head in his arms and rolled back and forth on the ground, effectively grinding dirt, grass, and probably dog poo, if the smell was any indication, into his khaki's and faded denim shirt. _Awesome._

"Now," Cas said excitedly, standing and turning away from Dean's prone form. "Who wants to sit in the fire truck?"

A chorus of "Me, me!" rang out and Lisa began to line the children up next to the fire engine.

Dean sighed and sat back on his knees.

"Need a hand?" Cas squatted next to him again, eyes twinkling in mischief. He brushed a clump of dirt from Dean's shoulder.

Dean shrugged him off and struggled to his feet. "Fuck you," he growled in a low whisper.

"Mr. Winchester," Cas clucked his tongue. "There are children present."

Dean opened his mouth on a fiery retort but slammed his lips together when Cas ran a finger feather light across his cheek.

"I can't take anything you say serious with that Band-Aid," Cas chuckled.

Dean groaned and scrubbed a hand across his face. _Fuck me._

Cas' laughter rang out and he clamped a hand over Dean's shoulder, squeezing it lightly before he jogged to the head of the line, opening the door of the fire truck and lifting the first little occupant into the seat. Dean sighed and followed, resisting the urge to twist around and check his ass for grass stains. At this point, did it really matter?

The children were each given a chance to sit in the front of the engine wearing Cas' helmet, comically large on their tiny heads. Cas produced two disposable cameras from the glove box and snapped a photo of each one. He handed the used cameras to Lisa after he lifted the last child to the ground.

"Everyone tell Mr. Novak thank you," Lisa instructed.

_Novak,_ Dean thought, another heated spike of jealousy zinging through him at the name. _Just when in the_ _hell had she learned that?_

The children lined up to go back inside for naptime, their little faces flushed and tired, but happy.

"Dean," Cas called, when Dean began to herd the small feet into place at the back of the line.

Dean sighed. _So close. _He turned back to find Cas holding out a large container of animal crackers, each box emblazoned with the fire safety week campaign logo.

"For snack time," Cas said. His expression was cautious, former bravado and teasing gone.

"Thanks." Dean tucked the plastic jar against his hip and turned to leave again.

"Dean, wait," Cas said softly, pulling on his shirt sleeve.

Dean sighed again. Cocky, jerkface Cas was apparently a whole hell of a lot easier to resist than sweet, remorseful Cas, because Dean was about two seconds from throwing the bucket of cookies to the lawn and kissing the firefighter senseless.

Which would probably get him fired.

"I've got to go," Dean replied.

"Yeah, okay," Cas dropped his hand, but leaned his mouth close to Dean's ear. "That shirt," he swallowed audibly and Dean stiffened when one palm grazed his back. "That's a good shirt."

Then he turned and jogged back to the engine, climbing into the driver's seat and giving one short honk of the horn before the big truck lumbered away.

Dean rubbed his eyes and followed his kindergarteners through the front door.

And it was _still_ Monday.

...

"I'll go," Cas offered Thursday afternoon when Rufus announced that his truck was ready to be picked up at Singer Salvage. Rufus grunted and tossed him his wallet.

"Don't spend all my money."

Cas chuckled and shoved the worn scrap of leather in his hip pocket. "I might stop for a steak on the way back. I'll bring you a doggie bag."

"Cas, goddammit," Rufus' voice trailed him from the firehouse.

Cas begged a ride from Jeff, another firefighter, who dropped him at the body shop. He pushed through the waiting room door, swallowing down a sudden case of nerves. It was close to five o'clock, so theoretically, hot teacher Dean _could_ be standing just beyond that concrete block wall, transformed magically into hot mechanic Dean. Cas licked his lips self-consciously; all his kinks wrapped up in one extremely pretty package. _Fuck._

Cas had been avoiding both the body shop _and_ thoughts of Dean Winchester all week. He could have cried in relief when he saw Dean standing at the curb of Meyer Elementary Monday afternoon, surrounded by two dozen pint-sized students and the attractive brunette. He hadn't missed the way Lisa had watched Dean, her expression carefully guarded when Dean spoke to her, but her gaze following him when he was unaware.

That would bear watching.

Assuming he wanted to see Dean again.

_Sweet Jesus, _did he want to see Dean again. He had barely slept the past week. He had behaved badly, leaving Dean alone Sunday morning, but the truth was, he had panicked. He had had one-night stands; hell, he had had _a lot_ of one-night stands over the past three or four months. But he had never stayed all night and he had _never_ wanted to bring breakfast back and wake his lover up with caffeine and a kiss good morning.

He had been halfway to the coffee shop before he realized how screwed he was. So he ran.

He figured it was just loneliness. He hadn't been in Sioux Falls long, and with his crazy shift schedule at the fire station he hadn't had time to really settle in yet. Within thirty minutes of leaving on Sunday morning, he was doing his penance, serving pancakes and maple syrup to a long line of early mass-goers at the quarterly fire station pancake breakfast.

He would say he had never given Dean another thought, but he'd be lying.

He would _not_ be lying if he said he couldn't remember the eye color of the handsome boy in the BMW who had picked him up at this very body shop last Saturday evening. It had been a whim, that date, and Cas had been sorry almost as soon as they had arrived at their dinner destination. Spoiled frat boys and their trust funds; apparently those didn't come with manners these days. The twenty-one year old's firm ass became a lot less enticing after he was exceptionally rude to their waiter. Cas had left him alone in the restaurant, open-mouthed and red-faced, and caught a cab to The Roadhouse, Rufus' favorite hangout, craving a familiar face.

If Cas believed in such things, he might have called it fate.

He glanced around the Singer Salvage waiting room, flushing from a too-vivid memory as he crossed the tile floor. A man was seated behind the register, staring intently at an enormous hardback book. Cas twisted his neck, peering over the edge when the man didn't seem to notice his appearance.

"Gastrointestinal system," he asked, trying to decipher the diagram.

"Oh." The man started. "Sorry, hi. Yeah," he chuckled, sliding a blank invoice into the book as a placeholder. "Can I help you?"

There was something familiar about his hazel eyes and wide smile.

"Rufus sent me to pick up his truck," Cas offered. He stuck out a hand. "Castiel Novak."

The man froze. "Cas," he said, expression warming. "The firefighter."

"Yes," Cas nodded hesitantly. He started to drop his hand, but the man grabbed it, pumping it enthusiastically.

"Sam. Sam Winchester."

Now it was Cas' turn to freeze. He blushed hard and Sam laughed.

"Now, don't do that." Sam was still grinning and he slapped the cover of his book closed, leaning an elbow on top. "So you're Dean's fireman."

Cas shifted his feet nervously, stomach churning. "Um, maybe?" _What the hell had Dean told him?_

"I gotta tell you," Sam said with another laugh. "I've never seen Dean so worked up in all my life. Nicely done, man." He stood and Cas' eyes widened. Good grief, he was tall. Sam came around the counter and clapped Cas on the back. "I think Bobby wanted to bitch Rufus out about something, so you're going to have to take it vicariously up the ass for him."

"All right," Cas replied, still confused, head spinning. _Dean had talked about him._ He cleared his throat. "So. Um," he hesitated again. _For the love of Pete. _ He wasn't a goddamn girl, but he felt about as worldly as a twelve year old with her first crush.

"He's not here," Sam laughed, reading his mind. "He only helps out on the weekend, and only if he has time." He patted Cas' shoulder sympathetically. "He's pretty pissed at you too, so you might want to give him a few days."

Cas sighed. "Yeah. I kind of got that."

Sam waved at Bobby to get his attention and then backed up, returning to the waiting room. "But don't give up on him. He's an asshole, but he's definitely worth it if you can get under the rough edges."

Cas nodded. He had rather enjoyed the rough edges, but he thought it prudent not to say so to Dean's... brother? Cousin? Just who was this giant?

"Sam," he called before the lanky figure disappeared. "Thanks."

Sam smiled, genuine and warm. "No problem. See you later, Cas."

Bobby wasn't so jovial. He ripped into Cas about changing the oil and spark plugs and hoses and about nine other things Cas could give two fucks about, especially since it wasn't even his truck _and_ _Bobby damn well knew that._

When he pulled Rufus' wallet from his pocket, Bobby slapped it aside. "I don't want your damn money, you fool," he barked before stalking away.

Cas blinked and looked around the garage. Not a single person seemed to think any of this was out of the ordinary, so he opened the driver's side door and slid behind the wheel.

"So you're wearin' clothes again, I see," said a voice at the open passenger window. The man had the shaggiest mullet Cas had ever seen.

He wrinkled his nose, panicking. _Had there been someone here Saturday night?_ "Uh, yes?"

Ash tapped out a rapid rhythm on the window. "That BMW guy, he serious?"

Cas wondered if his life had always been this surreal and confusing or if it was something specific to Sioux Falls. "No," he answered, deciding fate could have her way with him. Que sera sera and all that. "Already history."

"Good," Ash said, thumping the window frame with a fist. "I know a smoking hot mechanic I think would be a good match for you. You want, I could give him your number?"

Cas bit his cheek to hold back a smile. He leaned over to fish a pen and a piece of paper from the glove box and scratched out the digits. He passed it through the window and winked. "I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

Ash nodded. "No problemo, kemo sabe." He winked back. "And you should think about maybe doing a little manscaping. Dean likes 'em tidy."

Cas' mouth dropped open as Ash sauntered away.

_Manscaping._

He snorted and turned the key. He might actually be starting to _like_ Sioux Falls.

...


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: **__You are all kinky, naughty readers with completely filthy tastes. (Ahem. That's why we're friends.)_

_..._

Gabe swung open his door with a grin. "Deano!"

Dean shoved a bottle of wine at him and ducked under his raised arms. "I'm not in the mood, so don't start with me."

Gabe shut the door and held a hand over his heart. "I'm hurt, Dean. Hurt."

"Mm hmm," Dean scowled. He sniffed the air, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it on the tree by the door. "Smells good at least. Takeout?"

Gabe whistled and led Dean into the kitchen. "Wow, you're in fine form tonight. Who pissed in your cheerios?"

"No one," Dean grumbled. Gabe narrowed his eyes, giving Dean the onceover. "What," Dean ground out defensively.

"You got laid."

Dean blinked. "You can't _possibly _tell that just by looking."

Gabe cocked an eyebrow. "With you? Yeah. It's that obvious."

"No it's not."

Gabe popped the cork and pulled three glasses from an overhead cabinet. "Did you get laid?"

Dean shifted. "Well, yeah, but—"

"Then it's that obvious."

Dean took the glass and sipped. He grimaced. He hated wine.

Gabe snorted. "Why do you bring it if you don't like it?" He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer.

Dean swapped it for the glass. "Because it's polite," he mumbled, rolling his eyes. He screwed the top from his beer and neatly flicked it into the wastebasket, before taking a long drink.

Gabe held up two fingers and grinned. _Two points. _"So. Tell me all about her." He leaned against the counter, studying Dean with a smirk.

Dean scrunched his nose. "I really don't want to have this conversation."

"Oh no, we are _having_ this conversation." Gabe jabbed an index finger at his chest. "You've been Mr. Sad Sack Mopey Pants for months. Ever since whats-er-face—"

"Tina," Dean interjected, grinning at '_sad sack mopey pants'. _He_ was not._

"_Tina,_ decided she would rather have that soccer coach or whatever and ran off to Memphis."

"Are you done," Dean asked. "First of all _Tina,_ eloped to _Florida_ with an _NCAA_ _football coach_. So, you gotta give her street cred for that. And we were just friends with benefits."

"She was a wanker," Gabe scoffed.

Dean chuckled. "I don't even know what that means." He took another drag of his beer and eyed Gabe from under his lashes. "And it wasn't a _her,_" he offered nonchalantly.

Gabe shot up straight. "The fuck you say."

Dean shrugged, rolling the bottle between his lips and grinning.

"Holy Mary mother of Christ," Gabe breathed on a long exhale. He slapped his hand on the counter top. "Well, I can fix you up then."

"What? No you can't," Dean said incredulously. If there was one thing he did _not_ need it was anyone Gabe might deem worthy of a '_fix-up'_. Gabe had notoriously bad taste in women; Dean shuddered to imagine what he'd think was Dean's type in men.

"Like, yeah," Gabe said in his best _valley-girl. _"You shouldn't have been holding out on me, Deano, I had no idea you swung both ways." He held up a hand for a high-five and Dean ignored it.

"Fuck, _I_ didn't know I swung both ways," Dean laughed. He wondered if his cheeks were as red as they felt.

"You kissed me," Gabe pointed out with a grin.

"That doesn't count," Dean said firmly. "It was Christmas."

"Mmm, mistletoe," Gabe leered. "And how _is_ that handsome doctor brother of yours?"

"Still traumatized," Dean grinned.

Gabe waved his hand dismissively. "Back to the dude who popped your cherry. Tall? Short? What was he like? Are you seeing him again?" Gabe bent over and peered in the oven. His shirt rode up in the back so that his boxers were visible above the waistband of his jeans. They were red with... _What was that?_ Dean leaned a little closer. _Ah. _Little pink bears.

"Um, tall," Dean mumbled, wishing like hell it were still summer so he could blame his hot neck on the sun. "And no. I don't think so."

Gabe straightened. "Why the hell not? Obviously you like him."

"No. I don't," Dean said definitively, shoulders tensing.

"Ahh, so it was like that." Gabe grinned. "The infamous S.S. Dean Winchester, sunk at last."

"No," Dean started to argue but stopped, tilting his head. "Can we change the subject now?"

Gabe slapped him on the arm on his way to the fridge. "Fine, fine. But I want you to get good and liquored up later so I can pull all the smutty details out of you."

"I am definitely _not_ telling you anything."

Gabe snorted. "Obviously you've never gotten you drunk before."

"Wow," Dean grumbled, insulted. He could hold his liquor _much_ better than that. His eyes narrowed on the empty wine glass on the counter. "Who's the third?"

"What?" Gabe turned, a loaf of French bread in his hands. "Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. My brother is on his way." He sat the loaf on the counter and reached for a long, serrated knife. "Hey," he exclaimed waving the knife in Dean's direction. "There's an option for you. He's single. Mostly gay."

Dean choked on his beer.

Gabe ignored him and sliced into the bread. "Kind of an introvert, socially awkward."

"Wow, that's quite a ringing endorsement. I have no idea how I could ever refuse," Dean quipped.

Gabe wrapped the bread in foil and set it on the top rack of the oven. "I mean, for all he looks like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, he's got this weird death wish almost. Kind of a daredevil." He shut the oven door and tossed his hot pad on the counter. "You'd like him."

Dean tipped his bottle at him in warning. "I'm just here for the food, jackass. Don't try to pawn your ugly, socially retarded brother off on me."

"I see you've been talking about me behind my back again." The voice was deep and tinged with humor. And it was entirely too close.

Dean closed his eyes. _Fuck._

"Hey, little bro," Gabe said cheerfully. "How goes the fire business today?"

Cas chuckled, walking around the center island and leaning against the counter beside Gabe. "You make it sound like I'm a cheap car salesman." He accepted the glass when Gabe held it out.

"Cassie, this is my friend and fellow cat herder, Dean. Dean, Cas."

"Don't call me that," Cas warned, before nodding his head in Dean's direction. "How do you do, _Dean._"

Dean swallowed a mouthful of his beer, just to have something to do with his hands. What the _hell_ had he ever done to anybody to deserve this? _Christ. _

At least Cas seemed content to play along like they had never met. For now.

"You never mentioned you had a brother," Dean grumbled and Gabe lifted his eyebrows at his tone.

"No? Well, I do. Three of 'em in fact. All named for angels, right Cas?"

Cas nodded, but his eyes were trained on Dean's face. Dean squirmed under the focused intensity. Cas slowly licked his lips. _Fuck fuck fuck._

"Cas here, is the jumper," he stopped when Cas elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow, jerk. _Sorry_. Firefighter." He threw back the rest of the contents of his wine glass. "Michael is an investment banker and a shadier sonofabitch you never met. And Lucifer is a heart surgeon." He grinned. "Which is hilarious, considering he doesn't have one."

"Gabe," Cas chastised, but he was smiling too.

"And you, Dean?" Cas' eyes were damn near caressing his face and Dean thought if he didn't get the _fuck_ out of this kitchen he was going to implode. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Brother. Sam," he said curtly. He watched as Gabe nudged Cas aside so he could pull plates from the cabinet. Gabe's earlier words came back to him. "What's a jumper?"

"Ahh," Gabe glanced at Cas nervously. "I better let Cassie handle that one. Why don't you two go set the table and Cas can tell you _all_ about it," Gabe said with a lascivious wink at Dean.

"Smooth, Gabe," Cas intoned. "And totally covert."

Gabe handed him the plates and silverware and pushed at his back. "Go on. I'll be there in a minute. Gotta get the eats out of the oven."

Dean gave a fleeting thought to arguing, but changed his mind. He might have a thing or two he'd like to say to Cas after all.

"What the fuck," he hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot. "You're not _remotely_ shy or introverted. Does he even _know_ you?"

Cas lifted an eyebrow and began placing the plates on the table. He meticulously aligned the edges of the silverware and Dean noticed he placed two settings on once side, and one on the other, ignoring the seat at the head of the table. _Oh, hell no._

"_You_ don't know me," Cas said quietly. His eyes dropped to Dean's lips when Dean's tongue darted out to chase the sudden dryness away.

"I know a big part of you," Dean muttered under his breath.

"Aw, thanks, Winchester," Cas whispered tartly into his ear, skirting away at the sound of Gabe's footsteps.

"That's not what I meant," Dean snapped, pointing a finger.

"Ok, what did I miss," Gabe asked, eyes narrowing on the two as he set the pan of pasta in the center of the table.

"Nothing," they replied in unison, avoiding looking at each other.

"Uh huh, "Gabe nodded, unconvinced. "Something. I'm too hungry to futz with you right now. Let's eat!"

Dean made for the lone place setting and Cas stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Here Dean, sit by me."

Dean sighed heavily and sat down.

Gabe rolled over the obvious tension in the room by peppering the dinner conversation with humorous anecdotes from his conference.

"I'm telling you what. You ain't seen nothin' until you see a high school English teacher get drunk and karaoke to Tupac."

Dean grinned. He had been on some of those conferences. The Learning Channel could make bank off a _Teachers Gone Wild_ documentary.

He jumped when a leg pressed against his.

"So," he said, twisting carefully away. He frowned when Cas circumvented his retreat by sliding a palm onto Dean's thigh and squeezing. "You have different last names." He slid a warning glace in Cas' direction.

"Mmm," Gabe chewed. "Cassie has a different dad." He waved his fork between the two of them. "Clearly mine had the better genes."

"Gee, thanks," Cas said drily. He removed his hand from Dean's leg only to lay it casually across the back of his chair. He toyed with the edge of his collar.

Dean ripped into a piece of garlic bread and chewed viciously. "So. Jumper," he said around the mouthful. He was rewarded when Cas stiffened beside him and withdrew his arm.

"Like a dog with a bone," Cas muttered under his breath.

"Said the king of evasion," Dean retorted, fork clattering to the floor.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Gabe exclaimed, realization dawning. "You? I swear," he shook his head, expression merry. "I'm always the last to know the really good gossip. How the hell did you two even meet?"

"The bathroom at the Roadhouse," Cas replied, calmly wiping Dean's fork on his napkin and handing it to him.

Dean groaned and rubbed his temple. "Can we _not_?"

"You started it."

"All I did was ask a simple question. You're the one who can't seem to answer it. Oh, but wait," Dean said, tossing his napkin on the table. "Let me guess. You're going to disappear after dinner anyway, so it won't matter."

"Fuck you, Dean," Cas said, eyes glittering dangerously.

"Boys," Gabe murmured, but they ignored him.

"No thanks, Cas. What's that expression? Been there, done that?" Dean shoved away from the table. "Gabe, thanks for dinner. I'll see you tomorrow."

Dean was halfway home before it occurred to him that he _might_ have overreacted. A bit. His phone vibrated and he dug it from his pocket. _Gabe._

"What." He had a splitting headache and a lingering hard on and goddamn if the universe wasn't intent on screwing with his head nine ways to Sunday. For whatever reason, just being in the same damn room as Cas pushed all of his buttons, most of them located below the waist. He was simultaneously torn between a desire to rip off his clothes and slug him in the mouth.

"What are you wearing?" Cas' voice registered so low it might as well already be in Dean's pants.

"Fuck me," Dean exhaled wearily, steering wheel jerking in his hands. "What do you want?"

Cas chuckled. "I want a lot of things Dean," he said, and Dean hated himself for it, but his heart beat a little harder at the note of remorse in his tone.

"Yeah? Like what." He backed his foot off the gas a little. Suddenly the drive home wasn't quite long enough. If he closed his eyes, he knew he would see the dark edge of five o'clock shadow that apparently perpetually stained Cas' cheek.

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't drag you into the bathroom earlier and kiss that angry look off your face like I wanted to."

Dean's mouth quirked but he caught himself before the smile fully bloomed. "And?"

Cas paused and Dean could hear him breathing; it did funny things to his stomach. "And...I'm sorry that I never gave you my number."

"Which time," Dean bit out, still stung at the memory of waking up alone. Yeah, that one was going to be hard to let go.

"Well, that's the sorriest thing of all." Cas' voice was intimate, and it scraped along Dean's skin. "I'm _really_ sorry I had to leave you naked and gorgeous and sleeping last weekend. To serve pancakes. At five a.m. To a bunch of rowdy ass firefighters and early morning churchgoers."

Dean swallowed, face warming at Cas' words. "Pancakes," he whispered.

"Pancakes," Cas confirmed, sadly. "I _am_ sorry, Dean. My phone was dead. I had to run four blocks just to find a payphone so I could call for a ride. Do you know how embarrassing it is to stand on a street corner, clearly well-fucked and hungover, _and _face your new coworkers in a not-so-private walk of shame?"

Dean chuckled softly. "Ah, I guess not." He shifted on the seat. "Apology accepted?"

Cas exhaled. "Awesome. Can I come over?"

Dean grinned. "Why do I get the feeling you're only interested in getting in my panties?"

Cas scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Winchester. I've already been _in_ your panties. I'm only interested in your mind now."

"My mind, huh," Dean replied, playing with his own vocal register, liking the way Cas sucked in a breath when his words matched him tone for tone.

"I have lesson planning to do," he warned, a half-truth. His lessons were mostly planned for the next week. He just needed to type them up.

"You can do that while I suck you off," Cas replied casually.

The impala swerved and Dean swore.

"You okay there." Cas sounded amused.

"Yeah," Dean gasped. "Cat."

"Mmm," Cas murmured. "Directions?"

Dean hesitated. This was the proverbial crossroads.

"Dean?"

"I," Dean squeezed his eyes shut as long as he dared at sixty miles per hour. "I should really go to bed early," he said in a rush. "We have a zoo field trip tomorrow." _Crap. _His mouth was saying one thing and his dick was rather insistently saying another. What on Earth was _wrong_ with him? Dean pressed the phone tighter to his ear.

"Are you playing hard to get," Cas asked, and Dean felt a flood of relief that his voice held a note of affectionate humor. "Because I have to tell you Dean, totally unnecessary. You already have me."

Dean swallowed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Cas whispered. "Now. Back to the question at hand. What are you wearing?"

Dean snorted. "You saw me ten minutes ago. Jeans. T-shirt." He frowned. "Aw, fuck. I left my jacket in the foyer."

"Foyer? Did you just say fuck and foy-yay in the same sentence," Cas teased, and the pretty pronunciation sounded incredibly wicked in the sex voice."That was so...cultured. And hot."

Dean squirmed on the seat, taking his hand from the wheel to hit the turn signal. _Almost home. _"What can I say, I'm a renaissance man."

He pulled into the drive and hit the lights, Cas' deep, soft laughter hitting him right in the groin. _ Christ_, he was going to have to have a marathon session in the shower tonight just to be able to sleep.

"Are you home yet?"

"Mm hmm."

"Off the road?" The words were muffled and Dean could hear a rustling movement; _holy God, _he wasn't taking his clothes off. Was he?

"Take off your shirt."

"What?!" Dean would have been embarrassed by his loud squeak, except his face was already flaming, and there was no one to hear him anyway.

"Take. Off. Your. Shirt." Cas enunciated each word carefully and Dean could hear the soft rustle again. Sheets maybe.

"Uh, hold on." Dean placed the phone on the seat next to him and closed his eyes. He counted to ten. Then he opened his eyes and glanced around him. It was after nine, black as, well, _night, _and the nearest neighbor would have to walk within five feet to have a prayer of peeking in the impala's tinted windows. He left the engine running for heat and peeled his t-shirt off, shivering when the cool air hit his skin.

He picked up the phone. "Okay. And I feel like an idiot."

"Mmm, you look amazing though."

Dean snorted. "You can't see me."

"No but I'm imagining it, all taut, toned skin. Perky nipples."

Dean rolled his eyes, grinning. "Ah, and you? What are you wearing?" His cheeks burned even brighter. What the hell were they doing_? _And why was it so fucking hot_?_

"Superman boxer briefs."

Dean's laugh rang out in the dark car. "No you're not."

"Wanna bet," Cas said, gravelly voice dripping sex over the line.

"Nothing else? Socks?" Dean's hand rubbed low across his belly. The skin was peppered with gooseflesh.

"Socks," Cas snorted. "Are you one of those 'socks on' people?" His laugh might have been classified as a giggle if the sound wasn't so goddamn provocative.

Dean winced, grinning. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, man."

"First time?" Cas moved again and Dean could imagine him now, spreading flat across the bed, pillow flattened under his messy dark hair.

"Yes," Dean breathed. "Again."

"And the teacher becomes the student," Cas murmured. "I think I could get into this." He sighed and Dean thought he detected a soft moan there at the end.

_Jesus Christ._

"What are you doing? You're ahead of me," Dean said in a voice that might be bordering on _whine_.

Cas chuckled breathlessly. "Then get out of your pants, Winchester."

"In the car? How the hell am I supposed to do that?" His fingers were on his fly, slipping the buttons free.

"That's what reclining seats were made for, dumbass. Go. Recline."

"Okay, okay, hold your horses," Dean muttered. He leaned the seat back as far as it would go and lifted his hips, sliding his jeans as low as he could push them. The phone was tucked under his chin and he could hear Cas talking, but couldn't discern the words.

"Stop that," he said, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Stop what?"

"Don't waste the sex voice when I can't hear you," Dean said fiercely.

Cas laughed. "It's not like it expires, Dean," he dropped his voice even lower and Dean groaned. "I can use it on you whenever you like. All you have to do is ask."

"_Fuck_," Dean whispered. "Use it now, baby. Use it now."

"That car," Cas began, and Dean smiled, settling back against the seat and letting his hand drift to the front of his boxers. They were already tented and damp. "I knew the minute I saw that car in Gabe's drive that the driver would be fucking _gorgeous._"

Dean frowned "Any driver would do?"

"Mmm, no, Dean. The car was the aphrodisiac. The fact that the driver was you was my every fantasy come to life." His voice hitched and Dean tried to imagine the movements his hands were making, mimicking them with his own. "I'm going to fuck you in that car some day, Dean," Cas ground out.

Dean had to press his palm flat against his cock when it jumped and quaked at Cas' words. "Cas," he whimpered.

"Are you naked yet, Dean?"

Dean shook his head, then remembered Cas couldn't see him. "No, no."

"Then slip your hand inside and touch yourself for me, baby."

Dean did, loving the sounds Cas was making, knowing the same breathless moans were falling from his own lips.

He heard Cas groan, long and low, but it was muffled.

"Don't cover your mouth," he hissed, hand slick and wet as it moved faster. "I want to hear you."

"Dean," Cas breathed into the phone. "I have your jacket in bed with me, I can smell you."

"Oh, _fuck," _Dean gasped as he came over his fist, messy and hot and so good his head bounced off the seat back. His hand slowed and he breathed through his nose, biting hard into his lower lip.

"You sound amazing," Cas murmured. "I wish I was there."

"I'm a mess," Dean chuckled, breathless. "And no napkins."

"Use your t-shirt," Cas offered matter-of-factly, and the casualness made Dean laugh.

"Yes, teacher," he teased. He wiped his stomach and his hand on the discarded garment, and grimaced. "Guess I'll be going in the house half dressed after all."

"If it makes you feel any better, I have to change my sheets."

Dean grinned. "It does." He tossed the shirt into the floorboards. "Hey. My jacket survived, though, right?"

Cas chuckled. "Your jacket was safe under my head the whole time, Dean."

Dean shifted self-consciously on the seat. His jeans had migrated to his ankles, and he was starting to shiver in the cold, even with the heater blowing.

"You gonna sleep with my jacket," he joked, reaching for the waistband of the denim pooled at his feet. It was impossible. He couldn't manage it one-handed, and he wasn't ready to put down the phone yet.

"I just might," Cas laughed softly. He yawned. "Mmm, that was good, Dean. I'm going to sleep well tonight."

Dean smiled, warmed in spite of the cooling interior of the car. "Me too."

"I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, okay," he murmured. "Night, Cas."

The phone clicked and Dean's hand fell to the seat beside him. He felt wrung out, boneless, all the tension of the week drained from him in one extraordinary phone call.

He yelped when there was sharp knock on the window. Sam. _Christ. _He rolled down the window half way.

"Hi," he said, fighting to keep his tone casual.

"Do I want to know why you're sitting in the driveway half naked?" Sam's brow was furrowed in amusement.

"Nope," Dean said. He dropped his forehead against the steering wheel and sucked in a deep, cleansing breath. The car smelled faintly of sex and he was grateful the darkness hid his flushed skin.

"You want me to go in the house and pretend I never saw you?"

"Yup."

Sam grinned. "Good night, Dean."

"Night, Sammy."

...

Gabe knocked on the guest bedroom door. "You done with my phone yet, little bro?" He pushed open the door a crack, a hand held over his eyes as a shield. "I'm not _interrupting_, am I?"

Cas laughed. "Not currently. Five minutes ago..."

"Stop that," Gabe admonished, dropping his hand. He grimaced when he took his phone from Cas' outstretched palm. "You used protection, right?"

"For phone sex," Cas deadpanned.

"For _my_ _phone,_ hell yeah," Gabe grinned. "This is a thing of beauty. I don't need your," he wrinkled his nose, "_fluids,_ diminishing it's perfect shine."

Cas cocked one eyebrow. "I have no response to that."

Gabe shrugged. "Figures. You never did have any imagination." He sat on the edge of the bed and Cas scooted over to make room. "So. Dean Winchester."

Cas carefully schooled his expression. "Dean Winchester."

Gabe narrowed his eyes. "Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?"

"Would I keep things from you?" Cas' eyes were wide, innocent.

Gabe snorted. "Every goddamn day of your life."

Cas smiled and shrugged. "There's nothing. He's gorgeous. And as far as I can tell, available. Seems simple enough. Is that so hard to believe?"

"For you? No, not normally. For Dean?" Gabe shook his head, caution in his eyes. "Tread lightly, little brother."

Cas frowned. "I'm not the bad guy, Gabe. I _like_ Dean."

Gabe stood, patting Cas' leg. "Yeah, you probably do. As do most people who meet him. The problem is, he likes you. A lot."

Cas squirmed. "He barely knows me," he muttered.

"Exactly my point," Gabe said with a pointed look.

The brothers stared at one another for a long moment, silent understanding passing between them.

"Well, anyway. You staying tonight? You should just move in, you know. I have plenty of room and that cot of yours at the fire station is gonna get old eventually." Gabe tossed his phone in the air, catching it casually in his palm.

"Yeah, I think so." Cas' eyes followed Gabe as he walked away. "Gabe?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Thanks."

Gabe winked before he closed the door with a soft click.

In his own bedroom, Gabe sat on his bed, staring at the wall for several minutes. He had a feeling this was going to be a very interesting fall.

...


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: **__Thank you, you beautiful creatures. I am humbled by your gratitude of smut (smutty gratitude? whatever.) Enjoy!_

...

"You want to deal in, Cas," Jeff asked when Cas walked by the card game already in progress.

Cas shook his head, grinning. "Are you kidding? Rufus cleaned me out last week. You're on your own, my friend."

Rufus chuckled. "Smart boy. Now ante up," he said jabbing his cards at Jeff.

It was a slow Friday at the fire station; this was a good thing. It was boring as fuck, but such was the life of a firefighter. If it was a busy day, people were dying and property was being destroyed, and as thrilling as the job could be when it was hopping, Cas' excitement was tempered by its own flavor of guilt for enjoying that. It was one of the hardest lessons he had had to learn since coming to Sioux Falls a month ago.

Colorado had been simple. Fight fires. Set controlled burns to prevent fires.

Jump when fires emerged in places too remote to reach by vehicle.

Cas missed it. He missed the mountains and the trees. The fishing and the snow. Hell, he even missed the bears. It was so goddamn flat in this part of South Dakota, Cas thought if he stared hard enough he could probably see all the way to Wyoming. The sweet mountain air and bright yellow aspens were beckoning, and it was getting harder to ignore their siren's song.

Last Saturday, Cas had called his old foreman in Colorado. Asked if his job was still open.

It was.

He had needed to walk away when he did. Everyone had encouraged him to take a break, and Gabe had done him a huge favor, getting him this job. His last fire in Colorado had tested his ability to think clearly, to do the job without second guessing his choices.

His choices that day had been the wrong ones.

After, he had thought that he would walk away forever, that he would never be the same, that he could never go back. But after more than a month in this new reality, the oft-touted '_regular life',_ Cas wasn't so sure he was cut out for this either. Maybe he would always be a smokejumper. Maybe his heart was never meant for anything else.

He leaned against the bumper of engine number six, her chrome gleaming and polished, shining brightly in the midday sun. He took a long drink from a sweaty water bottle and watched the little ones kicking a soccer ball in the park across the street.

He squinted.

Make that little ones kicking a soccer ball with none other than the sexy, lone kink in Cas' plan to return to life BSF (Before Sioux Falls).

...

Dean's phone vibrated in his front pocket just as he finished passing out zippered sandwich bags of crackers and potato chips and sandwich triangles. _Unknown Caller._

"Hello?"

"Did they move the zoo to the park and no one told me?"

Dean smiled and looked up. The fire station was visible from where they were seated at the picnic tables. He had been wondering if Cas was on call today, mindful that the handsome firefighter was possibly just a hundred yards away.

"We're having lunch first, smart aleck."

"PB and J?" Cas stood and stepped into the sunshine. He held his hand up in a little wave.

Dean waved back when he spotted him, cheeks warming. _Lord. _He was wearing those navy canvas pants that emergency response workers wore, the ones with all the pockets, and a snug navy tee, white block FIRE emblazoned across the chest.

"Uh, yeah, actually. Complements of Dr. Winchester, lunch packer extraordinaire." He cleared his throat self-consciously. "You hungry? Sam always packs two sandwiches."

Cas grinned. Newsflash: Dean Winchester was adorable. And he would probably be the death of him. "I might be a little hungry, yeah. Is that an invitation Mr. Winchester?"

Dean moved the phone to his shoulder, holding it in place with his jaw so he could jab a straw into a juice box. He handed the drink to Paige. "Just get over here, and stop seducing me over the phone," he muttered, turning his face away from prying ears.

Cas chuckled and hung up. "Jeff! I'm going out for lunch."

Jeff waved his hand dismissively from his seat at the card table. There was a very serious poker game at hand.

...

"Mr. Novak," Lisa said in surprise as Cas approached. One hand reached up to pat her ponytail, in that contradictory way that women had, worried about their appearance while fluttering their eyelashes in abject flirtation.

"Ms. Braeden," he nodded. He skirted her table when she started to stand, waving her back to her seat. "Thought I'd stop by to see if Dean's cooking really is all boast and no substance." He winked to temper any sting, but he hoped his message was still clear. _Hands off._

Lisa raised her eyebrows and watched as he crossed the shaded grove to Dean's table. Dean's head was thrown back in a laugh and he held a juice box in one hand. Her stomach coiled in a tight little ball of surprise and envy. She had thought she was making progress with Dean; she had no idea that he might be interested in more than one flavor of sex.

Not that she could blame him, she admitted to herself grudgingly as she watched Cas prop one boot on the bench beside Dean's hip, ducking his head for a bite of sandwich when Dean offered it. Fireman Novak was gorgeous. His body reminded her of the violins she was forced to take lessons on as a child: sinewy shape, tightly wound, beautiful when a graceful touch was applied.

She flinched as she watched Mr. Novak reach down and brush a stray crumb from Dean's lip. No, she hadn't expected this at all.

...

"It could definitely use something." Cas chewed thoughtfully, crazy about the way Dean's eyes were absorbing the color of the trees overhead.

Dean scoffed. "This," he held the triangle of bread above his head in triumph. "This is a thing of beauty. It's art. The perfect mix of peanut butter to jam. Flawless when paired with Cheetos," he tossed a curled orange chip into his mouth, "and apple juice." He sucked hard on the tiny straw of his juice box.

Cas' eyes followed the motion of his throat as he swallowed, a wry grin lifting the corner of his mouth. "I concur with your assessment of the juice." He bent close to Dean's ear. "At least in its current container," he whispered.

The hair lifted on the back of Dean's neck, an electric current between them zinging to life at Cas' proximity. He shifted on the wooden bench. "You should sit down now and have one." He pointed to the other end of the table. "Preferably over there."

Cas chuckled softly and ignored him, hooking one leg over the bench and straddling the vacant end seat, next to Dean. "I like it here."

"Mm hmm," Dean pursed his lips and passed him the second wrapped sandwich. He pushed the open bag of Cheetos toward him. "No hogging the chips."

Cas winked. "I wouldn't dream of it." He picked up Dean's juice box and sucked in a mouthful of the sweet liquid.

Dean frowned and took the box back. "Let me have that." He handed Cas the water bottle he had set on the table when he arrived. "You stick to the drinks without straws, okay?"

Cas grinned and took a bite of his sandwich. _Damn._ How could one day be so mind numbingly boring and then something as insignificant as eating lunch outside turn it around into a grand adventure? It couldn't _just_ be the company, could it?

Attractive and charmingly sweet company though it was.

He chewed his sandwich and wondered idly if he needed a vacation. Get out of town for a few days. Sow a few wild oats, come back with a fresh outlook and his head on straighter.

He watched Dean wipe sticky hands with a wet wipe, and tie shoes expertly in a double knot using a Boy Scout trick Cas hadn't seen since he was a kid. He wondered if Dean got vacation days in the middle of the year. Maybe they could get out of town together.

Belatedly (and smack in the throes of a hotel hot tub daydream), Cas realized he had just circumvented his own plan of escape. He frowned as it occurred to him that maybe he was only interested in _sowing_ _wild oats_ in the field of Winchester. He sighed and popped another Cheeto in his mouth. Goddamn handsome teacher and his pretty mouth, with the little dimples that winked out when he was thinking entirely too hard about something that should probably be natural and easy.

Like kissing Cas.

Right now, Cas really wished Dean would stop passing out cookies and kiss him.

He wondered if Dean was free for dinner.

...

It happened just outside the rain forest enclosure.

Dean and Lisa had mapped their zoo visit to include the climates the children would learn about over the fall and winter months; they were simply too small and too easily tired out, to traverse the whole zoo in one visit. So far they had visited the tundra and the arctic.

Cas had tagged along as a volunteer chaperone, much to Dean's amusement and Lisa's consternation; she had been hoping to get the chance to question Dean about his relationship with the firefighter. As she worked with the men to corral their charges in the right direction, amidst the constant counting of heads lest they lose one, she ran through the previous fire engine visit in her head again and again. Had she missed some obvious sign that day?

She was so distracted watching Cas reinsert an errant hair bow that she didn't see the bee until it was too late. It landed on Charlie's neck, stinging him when the boy swatted at the prickly feeling on his skin.

"Charlie!"

The boy had immediately fallen to the pebbled walkway, twitching, face red and growing redder. His eyes rolled back in his head. Lisa dropped to her knees beside him, mouth working but no sound coming out.

Then Cas was there, shoving her aside and tilting the boy's neck to open his airway.

"Allergies," he asked tersely.

Lisa shook her head. "I don't know, I don't think so?"

Cas bent over his chest, listening intently.

Dean had quickly gathered the other children, placing himself between them and Charlie, shielding them as much as he possibly could.

"Call 9-1-1." Cas began chest compressions.

Dean's heart dropped into his stomach and he scrambled for his phone. He had just finished giving the details to the dispatcher, mouth dry, when two zoo employees arrived to help with the other children.

"Lisa," Dean said quietly. When she didn't respond, still holding one hand over her mouth at Cas' side, he spoke firmer. "Lisa. Go with the kids. Start calling parents. And Uriel. You need to call the school."

Protocol was that the parental phone tree was started in the event of an emergency, but only after their principal had been notified.

Lisa nodded, tears streaming down her face. She struggled to her feet and followed the zoo workers who had moved the other children a safe distance. Several were crying, confused and anxious.

Dean could see that Mary Margaret's thumb was firmly tucked between her teeth and he felt a small beat of gladness for it. She was okay. She would be okay, they all would. It was just Charlie...

Cas' mouth was set in a hard line. "Hold this," he said brusquely, thrusting a plastic container at Dean before he jammed a tubular pen-shaped object into the boy's small thigh. He rubbed the injection site vigorously, eyes intent on the boy's face.

Dean held his breath. The little boy's lips were purple and his tiny chest was still. Cas' fingers moved in concentric circles on his leg.

Charlie gasped, eyes blinking and Dean exhaled, sinking to the ground.

"It's okay," Cas murmured to the little boy as he began to cry. "Shh, lie still for a minute, tiger." He put a hand on Dean's knee and squeezed. "Dean."

Dean dragged his head from his hands and gave Cas a watery smile before he crawled to Charlie's side. "Hey little buddy," he crooned.

Charlie reached for him, tiny hands wrapping around Dean. "Want. My, my, mom," he hiccupped into Dean's neck.

Dean held him gingerly against his chest, gulping huge relieved breaths against his sweaty hair. He smelled like little boy and Dean laughed, squeezing him.

"Your mom's on her way, kiddo, Ms. Braeden has already called her."

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up.

"EMT's are here," Cas said low.

Dean nodded and pried Charlie's hands from his neck. "Guess what you get to do?" He tried to inject as much enthusiasm as possible into the words. "You get to ride in the ambulance. With the _sirens._" He looked up at the EMT who winked and nodded. _He'd better,_ Dean thought. Little guy deserved a siren at the very least.

Dean stayed with Charlie long enough to see that he was okay, strapped onto the rolling gurney, tiny oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, before he went to his own kids. They immediately surrounded him, the chatterboxes talking over each other and the quiet ones still solemn and fearful. More than one shoved their face against his leg and clung. He gave up and sat down in the middle of the woodchips lining the walkway, pulling as many against him and into his lap as he could. He passed a tissue to a couple who needed to wipe their eyes or nose, glancing up in surprise when a hand above him offered a fresh pack of portable Kleenex.

He laughed, and the sound was shaky. "What else do you keep in those pockets?"

Cas smiled gently. "Odds and ends." He squatted beside them, running a hand over the closest small head. "I'm going to ride in the ambulance with Charlie."

Dean nodded and cleared his throat. He set the little girl on his lap on her feet and stood, brushing his pants off. "Can you guys get in a story circle? How about I send Ms. Braeden for popsicles?"

Immediately the children sat, the bossier ones repositioning those who were out of order. Dean walked with Cas a few feet away.

"Thank God you were here. You saved his life." Dean swayed, still unsteady and Cas grabbed his arm.

"You all right?" He waited for Dean's nod. "It's okay, Dean. He's going to be okay."

"But you," Dean breathed, remembering the speed with which Cas had acted. It had been seconds. _Seconds._ "Shit," Dean breathed, then winced, glancing around to see if any of the children were close enough to hear. "Scared the hell out of me."

Cas smiled in understanding. His eyes were strangely soft on Dean's face and Dean thought he might need to sit down again.

Cas threw a quick look at the adults behind them; they were all preoccupied. He palmed the back of Dean's head and touched their lips together briefly. "Sit here for a minute and catch your breath. I'll call you later."

Dean's hand shot out to grasp his hand when he turned, and he squinted, the sun casting Cas in silhouette against the trees. "Cas, thank you."

Cas squeezed his fingers and headed for the ambulance.

Dean barely resisted the urge to touch his lips; it was their first kiss since Saturday night.

...

"Seriously. You're like a walking disaster movie, aren't you."

Dean rolled his eyes at Gabe when he dropped into the waiting room chair beside him. He had driven to the hospital immediately after school was released to see how Charlie was doing.

"I mean, honestly Dean. It was a field trip. With ankle biters." Gabe nudged him with his shoulder. "Even a monkey could handle it. Hey, actually. There were monkeys _there_. Next time, just ask for assistance from the more evolved species."

"You're not even remotely funny," Dean said drily, studying Gabe's jittery hands. "What's the matter with you? Have you been partaking of the espresso machine in Uriel's office again?"

"No," Gabe lied, eyes shifty.

"Bullshit," Dean grinned. "That stuff'll kill you, moron."

"Oh, but to be brought back to life at the very capable and masculine hands of one Dr. Sam Winchester," Gabe swooned, eyelids fluttering.

"And now I've lost my appetite. Douchebag," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. He had no idea _why_ Gabe had a crush on his brother, but it was longstanding and completely unrequited.

"Ooh, are we going out to dinner?" Gabe sat up excitedly. "Where are we going?"

"_We,_" Dean emphasized with the wag of a finger between them, "aren't going anywhere. _Sam_ and I are going out. Assuming he can get out of here in the next thirty minutes."

Gabe slumped back in his chair. "You never let me do anything fun."

Dean snorted. "You've clearly spent too much time in the company of seven year olds." He very carefully studied the wall-mounted television. "You could call your brother. See if he's available for dinner."

He could feel Gabe's eyes on him and he squirmed. "What?"

"_You_ could call my brother," Gabe said pointedly. "See if he's available for dinner."

Dean's ears burned. "Don't have his number," he mumbled. _Dammit._

"What was that, princess? You need _my_ assistance? _My_ expertise in the vehicle of _loo-ove_?" He drew the last word out over several syllables, making kissy noises until Dean gave him a black look.

"Oh, I know!" Gabe slapped his hands together. "I'll call him and we'll double. Come on, it'll be _fun_. We can have dinner, then maybe a little walk in the park." He wagged his eyebrows. "Maybe take separate cars home... Say yes, Deano. Say yes."

Dean chuckled. "Calm down before you have a stroke."

"And again," Gabe announced cheerfully waving a hand above his head. "Perfect place for it. Especially with my proximity to that sexy ass doctor currently flirting with your new boyfriend_._"

Dean started, gaze following Gabe's outstretched finger.

"Aw, shit, he's wearing aviators," Dean moaned and Gabe laughed. Cas was smiling as he approached the nurse's station where Sam waited with a matching grin. _How the hell did they know each other, anyway,_ Dean wondered crossly. Did _everyone_ know Cas but him?

"He's a handsome fucker, ain't he?" Gabe stretched out on the hard plastic seat, tapping his fingers in a tuneless rhythm over his belly.

"Yeah," Dean said miserably.

Gabe patted Dean's knee. "You know, you need some distance, say the word. I'll call him off."

Dean looked at Gabe in surprise. "Why would I want you to do that?"

Gabe narrowed his gaze. "You were just bemoaning his choice in _eye protection_, Dean. I thought maybe you could use a little perspective."

"Do _you_ think I need perspective?" Dean wasn't looking at Gabe while he waited for his answer. He was watching Cas as he stood chatting with Sam. He was still wearing the navy fireman's get up, and he was turning his sunglasses end over end in his hands. Dean had a sudden intense desire to feel those strong, elegant fingers on his body. "You know what? Nevermind. I don't want perspective."

Gabe clamped his mouth shut. He was watching Dean watch Cas. Well _crap._ Things were apparently going to get complicated. Fast.

...

"How can you eat that?" Sam's nose was wrinkled in distaste.

Gabe pulled the slice of three-meat pizza (extra cheese) from his mouth, one long, gooey strand falling to his chin. He chewed happily and gave Sam a wink.

Sam sighed and leaned forward with a napkin, swiping the cheese from Gabe's skin.

"He's a pig," Cas announced, slicing into his sub sandwich. "Always was."

"Like you're such a paragon of virtue," Gabe snorted.

Cas sent him a warning glance and Gabe rolled his eyes.

Dean's eyes shifted between the brothers. Cas was seated directly across from him and he nudged a toe against his ankle. "I might be open to some childhood war stories," he grinned.

Cas' eyes were hot when he caught Dean's foot between his legs and held it fast. "Be careful what you wish for."

Dean swallowed. _Holy cow_.

"Stop eyefucking," Gabe said around a mouthful of bread and sausage. "Trying to eat here."

Sam snorted and shoved his plate of salad aside. "Give me a slice of that."

Gabe's eyes bugged out and his mouth fell open.

"Gabe. Close your mouth, you idiot. You're supposed to at least try and appear refined on a first date," Dean chortled.

"It's not a date," Sam said calmly. "Don't give him any ideas." But he winked at Gabe.

Gabe choked and Cas slapped him on the back.

"For God's sake. Chew. Don't make me have to resuscitate you. Dean's poor heart couldn't take it twice in one day."

"Hey," Dean grumbled, cheeks warming.

Cas grinned. "You know it's true," he said and ran one of his feet up Dean's calf under the table. "Quickest way into Mr. Winchester's panties: perform a daring rescue."

"Stop that," Sam complained, then closed his eyes in ecstasy. "Oh my _God,_" he moaned around his first bite of pizza.

The fork Gabe had been holding (in order to appear more _refined_) clattered to the table. "Lord have mercy," he whispered.

Sam squirmed, all eyes at the table trained on him. "What? I do, on occasion, enjoy a bit of meat."

There was a beat of silence. Dean at least was brother enough to cover his laugh with a cough, but it was too much for Cas who howled.

Sam flushed when he met Gabe's wide grin. "All of you can go straight to hell," he muttered, but his tone was fond.

Gabe tentatively nudged his foot under the table. "I hear roommate applications open next Monday," he said solemnly.

Sam rolled his eyes, but much to Gabe's surprise, he didn't withdraw his foot.

_Will wonders never cease._

...

Gabe didn't get his walk in the park.

Sam had to return to the hospital and Dean still had lesson plans to type.

"I need to drop the truck at the fire station. Can you follow and pick me up?" Cas was speaking to Gabe but he was looking at Dean.

"I can do that," Dean answered quickly.

"Well fuck. I guess that means I'm the lucky bastard who goes home alone," Gabe grumbled. He turned to unlock the door of his mini-Cooper. "Always a bridesmaid," he said under his breath.

"Give me a ride, shortstack?"

Gabe jumped at the voice from the passenger side of the car._ Sweet Jesus. _"Uh, sure, handsome," he recovered with a cheeky grin. "If you think you'll fit."

Sam eyed the tiny car, tongue pressed firmly in cheek. "I've fit in smaller."

Gabe blinked. He tossed Sam the keys over the hood and Sam caught them on reflex, one eyebrow raised.

Gabe shook his head. "I think you better drive. I'm a little woozy."

Sam snorted and walked around the front of the car. He waved to Cas and Dean who had viewed the entire exchange from the bumper of the impala.

Dean chuckled as Sam contorted himself behind the steering wheel. "Now there's an interesting development."

Cas stepped over Dean's outstretched legs, straddling them. "Mmm?" He toyed with Dean's hands, leaning into his chest. "Were you saying something?" He nuzzled at Dean's cheek.

"Ahh," Dean licked his lips. "Cas," he whispered, pressing into the kiss at his ear.

"Hmmm?" Cas reached up and manhandled Dean's head, tilting it to the right. He sighed contentedly when he had a new and unobscured patch of skin to suck on.

Dean gripped the hips under his fingers tightly, head spinning. "Cas, we should probably get out of here."

"No," Cas mumbled around a mouthful of Dean's neck. "Fine. Right here."

Dean huffed a laugh and pushed more insistently until Cas straightened with a grunt. "You could come over," he offered hesitantly.

Cas' heated gaze skimmed his face, settling on his mouth and Dean shivered. "I can't stay," Cas offered cautiously. "I have an early shift tomorrow."

Dean smiled. "Then what are we waiting for?"

...

Cas had to stop by the station first to check in, so Dean gave him instructions to find the house, mind scrambling, trying to remember what state he had left his bedroom in that morning.

"See you in a few minutes," Cas promised with a saucy grin.

Dean noticed the raised eyebrows of the trio of women who were getting out of their car beside him in the parking lot. He couldn't decide if their expressions were scandalized or envious.

Or both.

When he got home, he eyed the living room. It could probably do with a dusting, that was true, but Sam was something of a neat freak, so all in all the house they shared stayed fairly tidy. He straightened the magazines on the coffee table and carried empty coffee mugs to the kitchen sink. He stood in the hall and rubbed the back of his neck, nerves ratcheting up. _I'm a pussy,_ he grimaced, knowing that he was avoiding his bedroom.

Checking for dirty socks and changing the sheets seemed sort of presumptuous.

On the other hand, he was fairly sure Cas wasn't coming over to bake cookies and watch TV.

He had maybe ten minutes.

He sprinted to the linen closet.

...

"So," Gabe said nonchalantly, not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at Sam's hands. And his face. And Lord, his _chest_. Good God, the man was massive, his upper body alone encompassing almost the entire front seat of Gabe's little car.

And he smelled divine.

"So." Sam grinned and sent him a sidelong glance.

"What the hell are you doing," Gabe asked, baffled.

Sam laughed. "I'm driving your toy car to the hospital so I can scrub in on a surgery later tonight."

"Not that, you beautiful asshole," Gabe protested. "What are you doing in this car? With me?"

Sam lifted an eyebrow. "You didn't notice the not so subtle _get a roominess_ of our dining companions?"

"Ugh, don't go quoting Buffy to me," Gabe groaned, dropping his head to the seat back. "I can't take one more iota of perfection from you."

Sam reached over and patted his leg, noting the way Gabe tensed when he touched him. "Look, I like you. Okay? You've been a good friend to Dean."

"But," Gabe sighed. "Always with the buts." He quirked his head. "Of which, I might add, yours is _fine._"

Sam laughed. "Thanks. But, no buts. I like you. That's all."

Gabe narrowed his eyes. "You've never liked me before."

"Yes, I have," Sam squirmed. His head brushed the top of the car.

"No you haven't," Gabe stated, matter-of-factly. "Furthermore, you've gone out of your way to _avoid_ me since the Roadhouse Christmas party."

"You gave me a lap dance!" Sam's cheeks flushed bright red, visible even in the dim light of the dashboard.

Gabe chuckled. "Oh yeah. I forgot. Um," he shrugged. "Sorry?"

Sam wiped a palm over his face. "Don't apologize," he muttered.

Gabe straightened, ears keen. "What did you say?"

Sam sighed, a long-suffering exhale. "I said, _don't apologize._"

They turned into the hospital parking lot and Sam expertly parked the little car between two painted yellow lines. He turned off the ignition and slanted toward Gabe.

"Okay, look. I might have hated it at the time." He paused, biting his lip.

"But," Gabe grinned, dragging out the word.

Sam rolled his eyes. "_But,_ I've thought about it a time or two since then," he said in a rush.

"Son of a bitch," Gabe whispered.

"Don't get any crazy ideas," Sam warned when Gabe leaned infinitesimally closer. "I mean," he stopped, then laughed softly. "I don't actually know what I mean."

Gabe tentatively laid a hand on Sam's, on top of the console. "I think that means we've made contact, Major Tom."

Sam turned over his hand, giving Gabe's fingers a squeeze. "Look, you make me laugh, okay?"

Gabe frowned, concerned at the seriousness in Sam's voice. "Okay."

Sam sighed and pulled away. "I should go in."

He climbed from the vehicle, no small feat, and one in which Gabe was treated to a variety of up close and personal brushes with various Dr. Winchester body parts.

Sam ducked his head back in the open door before he walked away. "I like drive-ins."

Gabe scrambled across the seat before he could shut the door. "Wait, what? Like hamburgers or movies?" He leaned precariously out of the opening.

Sam turned, walking backwards with a sexy grin. "Movies," he called before he spun around and disappeared into the hospital lobby.

Gabe grinned. "Well all right, then."

...


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: **__This is what happens when I get carried away. Ahem._

The doorbell rang just as Dean was fluffing his pillows. He wiped his hands on his thighs nervously before he opened the door. Cas stood under the porch light, familiar sexy grin in place.

"Can I help you?" Dean leaned on the jamb. He willed his heart to slow its frantic pace.

"I have come today to ask if you have a personal relationship with our savior, the Lord Jesus Christ."

Dean blinked, then started laughing. He pushed open the screen and grabbed Cas' t-shirt, hauling him against him. "I might be on a first name basis occasionally, yeah." He left a spare inch between their mouths; he was rapidly developing a weakness for the feel of Cas' breath on his skin. Cas tipped his head forward just enough he could brush his lips across Dean's.

"Hi," he whispered.

Dean grinned. "Hi."

He released Cas' shirt and stepped aside to let him enter. He might have fondled his ass when he passed. Cas waited inside the door, studying the room, noting the medical books on the desk.

"You live with Sam?"

Dean shut the door and leaned on it, needing the solidity to catch his breath. "Yeah. Since he started his residency. Well, before that too, when he wasn't in school."

Cas watched him quietly, eyes hooded. He held out a hand and after a moment Dean took it, let him tug him closer. "Is he coming home tonight?"

Dean shook his head. "Not for a while."

Cas rubbed their stubble together, chin dragging across Dean's cheek. "I suppose he might frown on finding his brother naked in the living room?"

Dean smiled at the sandpapery feel of their skin together. "You planning on leaving me naked and alone again, Cas? Cause I gotta tell you. Not a fan."

Cas huffed a laugh. "Are you implying I still owe you, Dean? Because I can think of a few ways I can make it up to you_._" His hands had moved to the hem of Dean's shirt and he pushed it up, knuckles dragging along his stomach. He raked his nails across the sharp edges of both sets of ribs and Dean flinched; it tickled.

Dean backed him toward the sofa. "Does it involve liquor?"

Cas licked the pulse point in Dean's neck, hands shoving higher under the worn cotton t-shirt. "Mmm. Should it?" He grunted in frustration when Dean's arms got in his way and Dean chuckled, raising them obediently so Cas could pull his shirt over his head. Cas sighed contentedly, running his hands over the smooth skin of Dean's chest. His fingernails lightly scraped over his nipples and Dean shivered.

"You should never be allowed to wear clothes," Cas said, surprising Dean when he softly kissed the knob of his shoulder.

Dean exhaled slowly. This was a different Cas; not the superheated, sexually charged creature from Saturday night, and not the brazen firefighter with the biting wit. He combed his fingers through the messy dark hair, pulling gently, guiding Cas' mouth back to his. "You should kiss me," Dean whispered gruffly.

Cas smiled. "I can do that." He brought one hand to the back of Dean's head, fusing their mouths together in a deep, searching kiss.

Dean moaned lightly. _Fuck_. They should skip the couch and get out of the living room right this second, or Sammy was going to get an eyeful when he came in later. Sober Cas apparently kissed with whole body involvement, like it wasn't enough to consume with lips or hands alone. He slid a knee between Dean's legs and Dean gladly rode the ridge of his hip, the bone scraping against his hardness with a sweet pressure.

"Cas," he gasped. "No floors."

Cas chuckled and lightly pushed Dean away. "You lead and I'll follow, Mr. Winchester."

Dean swallowed back the sounds that were shamelessly falling from his throat and thought, inexplicably, of his lesson plans, due first thing Monday morning.

He _could_ get up early and do them Saturday. Or even Sunday. He flushed when Cas gathered him close again, hands caressing the bare skin at his waist.

"Dean?"

"Sorry," Dean shook his head to clear it, kissing him lightly. "Making to-do lists in my head."

Cas wrinkled his nose. "_That's_ what I incite? Organizational duties?" He cupped Dean's ass and squeezed. "Obviously I need to work on my technique."

Dean growled when Cas' mouth skirted away, not letting Dean catch it. "Your technique is going to kill me."

Cas rolled his hips, holding Dean firmly against him, eliciting another soft groan. "Guess it's a good thing I know CPR."

"Smartass," Dean rasped, shoving him away and taking his hand. Cas' eyes widened when he brought the knuckles to his lips_. Two could play the sweet and gentle game._ Dean pointed his index finger at him without releasing his hand. "New rule. You wake me up and say goodbye."

Cas crossed his heart. "I solemnly swear."

"I mean it, Cas," Dean warned.

Cas squeezed the fingers holding his. "I promise, Dean."

Dean took a shuddering breath. "Okay," he exhaled. "Okay. Let's do this."

Cas chuckled. "It's not jury duty, Dean. Relax." He released Dean's hand and began to back out of the room, slowly pulling the hem of his shirt from his pants. "You tell me when."

Dean's nostrils flared and he felt a surge of pure, unadulterated hunger_. Christ, he was gorgeous. _"When to stop walking or when to stop getting naked," Dean murmured, following. "Because I thought we'd already clarified the latter was a bad idea all round."

Cas tilted his head, pulling his shirt off and dropping it to the floor. His fingers started on his fly, flicking his belt free of its buckle. "True. We did."

Dean caught up and batted his hands away. "I want to," he whispered. Cas' eyes darkened to navy as Dean's fingers deftly slipped the button and zip free.

"You're awfully good at that," Cas noted, eyes narrowing. "You sure you don't have any experience?"

Dean had guided him into the bedroom now. He gave a little shove and Cas' feet tangled in his loosened pants. He lost his balance, toppling onto the bed with a laugh.

"Only with you," Dean said and his voice held a note of possession that made Cas' blood simmer. He dragged the jeans from Cas' legs and dropped them to the floor, boxers following.

"Get up here," Cas demanded, lying back on the sweetly scented sheets; they smelled of sun fresh air and clotheslines. He smiled. "Did you change the sheets for me, Dean?"

Dean let the rest of his own clothing fall to the floor and climbed on top of the bed, crawling up the lean body splayed out for him. He braced himself above Cas' head on his forearms, dipping his mouth to nibble at his lips. "Maybe," he whispered. "Any complaints?"

Cas shook his head, trying to catch Dean's lips and failing. He growled. "Get your fucking mouth down here, asshole."

Dean ignored him, aligning their hips with precision, face taut in concentration. He breathed hotly against Cas' ear when he rolled against him once, twice.

Cas groaned. "Dean." He pulled at Dean's waist.

"Shhh," Dean shushed him, gathering his wrists in one hand and holding them above Cas' head. "This one is all mine."

He licked into Cas' mouth, slipping free before Cas could catch his tongue. "Bastard" Cas rasped, head dropping back to the bed. "Oh, _God,_" he moaned when Dean bit into the skin of his neck, sucking a kiss under his jaw.

Dean rolled his hips again, loving how hard Cas was, how responsive. He writhed beneath him, twisting against the fist that held his wrists pinned to the mattress, allowing Dean the illusion of control. It was false, and they both knew it, but it was heady and it turned Dean the fuck on. He slid their bodies together until Cas' cock fit just so into the juncture of his thigh. Cas whimpered, licking his lips.

Dean rocked, cradling Cas' hardness in the groove he made for him, rubbing against it, finally allowing a desperate, panting Cas to claim his mouth in a kiss, swallowing his curse. He released Cas' wrists at same moment he lifted his head, a wicked smile lighting his face.

Cas blinked dreamily. "Sweet mother of Christ, I don't know what you have planned baby, but _please_ don't stop." His fingers cataloged all of Dean he could reach, his forearms, the nape of his neck, raking through his hair and down his back.

Dean was peppering kisses down his chest, licking his nipples until Cas hissed, screwing his eyes shut tight; he wasn't usually a nipple guy, but apparently Dean had a magic tongue and it elicited hot sparks of pleasure along his nerve endings wherever it landed. He laved Cas' navel and then moved lower. Cas steeled himself, biting his lip.

"Please don't ruin all of my virginal fantasies about you and tell me_ this _is the one you have experience with," he gasped. Dean's mouth was skirting his groin, brushing along the soft skin above his pubic bone, then down either thigh.

"Mm mmm," Dean shook his head, mouth open, rubbing, testing the smoothness of the skin at the base of Cas' cock. Cas' skin held a fine tremble and Dean relished it. _He had done that._ Dean tentatively touched the tender skin with his tongue. Cas jumped.

"Jesus _Christ."_

Dean chuckled and even his breath over Cas' sensitive flesh was enough to make him writhe against him, begging. "Dean, please." His fingers fisted in Dean's hair and he tugged insistently.

Dean kissed the smooth crease of his thigh and reached up to extricate the hand from his head. "Don't make me tie you up," he warned.

"Oh _fuck,_" Cas breathed. "Now you have to."

Dean laughed softly and entwined their fingers. "Maybe next time," he whispered before he opened his lips over the head and swallowed Cas down in one go.

Cas cried out, the feeling of Dean's hot tongue and warm throat squeezing around him, sliding along his hard length, too much, too overwhelming. Dean released him and Cas sucked in a breath, strangling when Dean took him down again. He was uncoordinated at first, his tongue unsure of where or when best to apply pressure, when to suck and when to slide, but Cas didn't mind; it was hands down the hottest fucking blow job of his life.

It might have had something to do with the giver.

"Close, Dean." His lip was red and swollen where he had bit into it. "C'mere, baby." He tugged at Dean's arms, careful to avoid his hair.

Dean placed one last gentle kiss to the tip and slid up his body, settling over him, heavy and weighty. He kissed Cas long and deep, their hips rocking against one another, seeking contact.

"Dean," Cas moaned, reaching between them. He gathered them both in his palm and began to stroke, his own wetness and Dean's mouth having created the perfect slip.

"You're gorgeous," Dean groaned against his mouth. "And you taste so good."

Cas chased his tongue, kisses hot and wet and messy. "Touch me, Dean."

Dean obliged, his hand joining Cas' and stroking them, filling the gaps until there was nothing but one long, endless movement of fingers and palms.

Cas cried out first, jerking under him, head thrown back. Dean leaned forward and bit his exposed neck, sucking a dark mark, not caring that the entire fire station would likely know who put it there. He still wore the faint, yellowing bruise of its twin just above his own collarbone.

Cas moaned long and low, languidly kissing Dean as he floated back down, stroking his tongue deep into his mouth. "Dean," he murmured, and Dean thought he could come from just hearing his name pulled from those lips in that husky tone. "Flip over."

Dean let himself be pushed to his back and Cas crawled on top of him, straddling his stomach.

"Wait, baby," Dean said but he was too late, Cas was already sliding home, eyes still dilated, dark with lust, clenching around Dean hot and tight and, _sweet Jesus, _indescribably good. Dean's only wish was that he could have lasted longer, because in far too few thrusts, he was there, bliss washing over him in a crashing wave, his fingers digging into Cas' hips brutally hard, holding them flush together.

Cas collapsed against his chest in a rush of air.

"Fuck," Dean exhaled.

Cas laughed in agreement against his neck. They lay panting against one another for several moments.

"Shit," Cas said suddenly, words muffled but panicked.

Dean chuckled. "What?" He tugged Cas' face from his neck, brushing the sweaty curls from his forehead. Cas' pupils were still large, dark. "What," he asked again, concerned.

"I forgot the condom." Cas' face couldn't be described as anything but shocked. "I've never forgotten," he said in awe. "I've never had sex without one."

Dean huffed, laughing softly, and tucked him back into his chest. "Then I suppose we're okay, 'cause neither have I."

Cas relaxed again and Dean felt his lips turn up in a smile against his skin. "I guess so."

Dean ran his hands down Cas' back; their body contours fit together perfectly, each piece of Cas slotting into piece of Dean. "I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later," he whispered against Cas' hair.

"What's that," Cas murmured sleepily.

"It was your turn to have a first time."

Cas chuckled and propped his chin on his fist. "Dean Winchester."

"Castiel Novak," Dean intoned. They had left the lights on and Dean was inherently glad of the fact now, because he could see every pore in Cas' pink-flushed skin, every fleck of lighter blue in his eyes. He leaned forward to touch their lips together. "You were saying."

Cas licked his lips, eyes suddenly serious. "Nothing," he said softly. He kissed Dean again and rolled to his side. Dean pulled him close, smiling when Cas shimmied out from under his arm to turn the lamp off, then ducked back under Dean's arm, dragging a blanket over their entwined bodies. "I'm going to sleep with you, Dean, and then I'm going to wake you up before I leave."

Dean chuckled. "You don't have to give me a play by play, you know. I trust you." He sighed contentedly, Cas nestled against him, warm and tightly fitted into his side.

Cas yawned. "Set me an alarm, Winchester."

Dean snorted. "I like that. You were just up." He reached for the alarm clock on the nightstand.

"Getting the blanket was not '_up_'," Cas murmured. "That was the prelude to cuddling."

"I don't cuddle," Dean grumbled, cuddling Cas closer. "I squeeze together, manly and strong."

"Yeah, okay," Cas said drily. "Four a.m."

"Christ," Dean complained, but he set the alarm. "I could set it for three thirty. Wake you up good and proper."

"Thirty minutes wouldn't touch the tip of good and proper."

"Three?"

"Better make it two forty five."

Dean grinned and kissed the top of the dark head tucked under his chin. He set the alarm for four. As much as he would love to send Cas off in the morning in style, his firefighter needed a good night's sleep if he was going to be functioning at full speed tomorrow. Dean wouldn't risk Cas' safety; he had seen first hand the types of split second decision-making that was required of Cas on a day-to-day basis.

Dean would just have to make it up to him tomorrow night.

...

Cas slapped the alarm just before it beeped. He had been conditioned over the years to wake eerily close to the moment the alarm would go off. Dean mumbled in his sleep, arm thrown over Cas' waist. Cas rested his hand on Dean's shoulder, watching the other man sleep. It was too dark to see them, but he could already map the freckles across the bridge of his nose. Dean's eyelids fluttered; he was dreaming. Cas leaned forward to press his lips to the dark gold lashes lying across his cheek.

He sighed, heart flipping over hard in his chest. _Shit. _ He was well and truly gone on a kindergarten teacher.

It was both amazing and terrifying. He wished it didn't stoke a level of fear in his gut that gnawed, urging him to hightail it in the opposite direction.

He rolled to his back and covered his eyes with his forearm. Maybe he should have let Dean be, let him keep his anger and hurt feelings, let it all fade quietly away, a drunken mistake, soon forgotten. Dean mumbled again, then blinked sleepily. He smoothed his fingers up Cas' chest.

"Is it time," he murmured.

Cas caught his hand, bringing the palm to his mouth. He touched his tongue lightly to the skin before pressing a damp kiss there. "Yeah," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

He rolled out of bed, tucking the blanket over Dean's shoulder, smiling when Dean burrowed under it. He padded to the dresser by the window and dug through the top drawer. Might as well make this all kinds of official and borrow clean underwear and socks. He smiled at the bag of chocolate candy bars tucked into the corner of the drawer. _So, Dean has a sweet tooth._ That might bear remembering.

His pants were on the floor by the bed, but his shirt... He frowned. _Oh yeah,_ he grinned. His shirt was out in the hall somewhere. He carefully turned the doorknob, quietly shutting the door behind him. He shivered in the cool darkness, remembering the handsome furnace he had had wrapped around him in his sleep.

In the bathroom he ran the shower as hot as he could stand it, sending up a silent apology to Sam in case he was a light sleeper, assuming he had made it home. Cas had no idea; he had slept like the dead.

Which was odd. He was a notoriously fitful sleeper.

He found a packaged toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and opened it to brush his teeth. After he rinsed it, he dropped it in the glass cup with the other two.

Three toothbrushes. His cheeks warmed. He had never kept a spare toothbrush anywhere.

His FIRE tee was on the back of the couch, neatly folded, a slip of paper on top. _Thanks for sparing me any naked trauma. I see enough assholes in my day job._

Cas grinned. He liked Sam. He pulled his boots on, tucked his shirt in, and stood facing Dean's bedroom door, breathing deep.

He had legitimately never done this before.

His palms were damp as he silently crossed Dean's bedroom, and he had to wipe them on his shirt. He leaned over the head of the bed, lips brushing Dean's ear.

"Dean," he whispered, hovering.

Dean's cheek twitched.

"Dean, wake up." He kissed his jaw, watched those pretty eyelids flutter, fighting consciousness.

"Lisa," he mumbled, rubbing his face against his pillow.

Cas froze, mouth dry.

Dean blinked one eye open and they stared at each other for a heartbeat.

"Gotcha," Dean whispered huskily.

"_Asshole_," Cas exhaled in a rush, straightening up.

Dean chuckled, rolling to his back and halting Cas' retreat by hooking a finger through the nearest belt loop.

"_Now,_ we're even." He tugged but Cas resisted. "Aw, come on, sweetheart. I was only teasing."

Cas relented, shoving Dean's hip over so he could perch on the bed. His heart was still pounding. _Fuck._

"You're a jerk," he said sternly, but his mouth was quirking up. He raked the blanket low on Dean's hips so he could look at him once more before he left.

"And you're a perv," Dean grinned, wiggling self-consciously. He reached for Cas' face and tugged. "Now kiss me before you're late. I have sleeping to do."

Cas obliged, applying more tongue and tilt of head than he had planned, pressing into him until Dean's fingers were greedily pulling at his shirt, trying to get underneath. He broke away, laughing darkly. ''Nope." He disentangled himself from Dean's arms and stood, ignoring his heartfelt whine. "_Now,_ we're even," he smirked.

Dean flipped over on his side, yanking the covers to his neck, muttering into the pillow.

Cas patted his butt. "Bye, Dean," he whispered.

"Bye." Dean's voice was miffed and Cas smiled. _Spoiled baby._ He bent and dropped a soft kiss to his temple.

"I'll call you later," he offered sweetly.

He was halfway to the door when Dean sat up on an elbow. "And leave your goddamn number. What are you, Bruce Wayne?" His voice was scratchy with sleep.

Cas backed across the threshold, biting his lip in amusement. "Are you implying you'd be interested in a little role-playing?"

Dean had a startlingly clear vision of Cas dressed as Batman and his mouth fell open. _Holy shit._ He fell back on the bed. "You're going to kill me," he groaned.

Cas was still chuckling when he closed the front door.

...

Dean slid out from under the front end of a 1987 Dodge Ram with too much force and his creeper hit a stray nut on the concrete. It pitched him onto his side and his cheek landed in a thick black patch of grime on the oily floor.

Ash hooted. "Don't quit your day job!"

Dean sat up, grimacing as he wiped at his jaw. His fingers came away black. "Shut up, Ash," he said good-naturedly. He had dropped by the garage on a whim, bored out of his mind at home with Sam at the hospital and Cas...doing whatever it was firemen did when they weren't fighting fires.

Bobby had immediately thrown him under the truck, bitching the entire time about _stupid wannabe rednecks_ and their inability to manage the simplest of maintenance tasks.

Dean rolled to his knees. His white tee was filthy, he was sweaty (Bobby must have cranked all the space heaters because it was like an oven in the garage), and there were grease splotches on the thighs of his jeans. Dean flexed his fingers around the wrench in his hand and grinned. _Goddamn,_ he was happy.

"You're pissing me off, boy." Bobby grunted above his head.

Dean looked up in surprise. "Me? Why?"

"Aw, leave 'em alone, Bobby, can't you see he's in the thrall?" Ash tossed an empty tire tube into the large metal cage for recycling.

Bobby ignored him. "Why are you smiling that shit-eating grin?" He sniffed. "Ain't normal."

Dean chuckled. "I don't know. I like cars?" He scrubbed at the oily spot on his cheek again. It was starting to itch.

"That ain't it," Bobby said decisively, scowling. His eyes narrowed. "You got a new girl?"

Ash snorted. "He's got a new _boy._"

"Ash, Jesus," Dean complained, flushing. He used the Dodge's bumper as leverage to clamber to his feet. He wiped his hands on the rag Bobby offered, squirming under his intent gaze.

"That true?"

Dean wondered if you could spontaneously combust from sheer embarrassment. He cleared his throat. "Um, maybe?"

"Ain't no _maybe_ about it. Either you do or you don't." Bobby yanked the rag out of Dean's hands and shoved it back into his hip pocket. "I don't get it, these newfangled ideas." He was still muttering when he turned away. "Men and women, that's how it used to be when I was young. You didn't hear about this girl on girl nonsense every time you turned on the damn TV. And now this," He turned and jabbed a finger at Dean. "Your daddy would shit a brick."

Dean flushed and a spurt of anger shot through him. "Well _you're _my dad now. So I guess I really only care about what _you _think." His jaw tensed.

Bobby's eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath. "I," his mouth worked. When he looked at Dean, he didn't see the thirty-four year old man standing in front of him; he saw the eight year old boy who caught frogs in the pond out back, who cried when that crazy yellow cat got run over because it was forever in the road. Who had nightmares every night for an entire year after his parents died in a house fire. He blinked away a sudden hot surge against his eyelids.

"I think I need to meet this boy before I make any grand pronouncements," he said gruffly. He stalked to the workbench and grabbed a ratchet set.

Dean exhaled, grinning.

Ash startled him when he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "How's it feel?"

Dean blinked at him in confusion. "How's what feel?"

"First big gay family crisis averted. Congratulations, man."

Dean snorted and elbowed Ash in the ribs. "Shut up, Ash," he said again, but his tone was jovial. He fake boxed the skinny mechanic who stood grinning at him but didn't shadow punch back.

"He's not really a homophobe," Ash said matter-of-factly.

Dean threw a left hook to Ash' jaw, barely glancing the skin. He ran a little victory lap around him, hands above his head. "Huh?"

"Bobby."

"I can still hear you, you idjits," Bobby yelled from the Mazda Miata he was under.

"I know that, you mangy old coot," Ash called back. "I was just telling Dean here about your man crush on Mr. Crowley."

"_Fuck!"_

Dean and Ash bent over to peer under the Miata.

Bobby held a rag against his forehead. When he pulled it back to check for blood, there was a new, shiny knot forming.

"Mr. Crowley, huh," Dean grinned. "Do I need to meet him before I make any grand pronouncements?"

"Don't you two have work to do," Bobby complained.

Ash nudged Dean with a conspiratorial wink as they turned back to the Dodge. "Of course, Miss Ellen wouldn't take too kindly to that smarmy English bastard getting his hands all up in Bobby's hoo hahs, you can bet your panties on that."

"Son of a bitch!" A wrench clattered to the concrete under the Miata.

Dean bit into his cheek to hold back his laugh. He high-fived Ash and went back to work.

...

Dean parked the impala across the street from the fire station and climbed out. He leaned on the bumper and dug the scrap of paper with Cas' number on it from his front pocket.

"Please tell me you're naked."

Dean chuckled. "Not even close." He crossed his arms, relaxing against the hood. "You?"

"No, but give me five minutes."

Dean grinned. "You don't think that might draw some eyebrows round the fire station table?"

Cas scoffed. "These guys? Nah. They've already seen me naked. They've become acclimated."

"I don't like the sound of that," Dean grumbled, hair rising on the back of his neck.

"Down, boy," Cas murmured, chuckling. "Close quarters, remember?"

"Yeah, I still don't like it." Dean frowned, crossing and uncrossing his ankles. He cleared his throat. "Anyway. Come out front. I brought you a present."

"A present?" Cas' voice lilted in surprised pleasure. Dean could hear a rustle of movement, like he'd rolled out of bed.

He fiercely shoved the image of Cas' sleeping quarters from his mind. Cas' sleeping quarters with a half dozen other firefighters. Who potentially got to see him naked. Every day.

Dean gritted his teeth.

Cas' slim body appeared out of the shadow of the fire truck bay. Dean lifted his hand and waved, grinning.

"You brought me a dirty mechanic?" Cas hummed in pleasure. "Mmm, I like. Thank you, baby."

Dean flushed, feeling silly and turned on all at once. "I thought you might." He squirmed when Cas made no move to cross the street. "You off tonight?"

Cas shook his head, settling back against the fire engine. "Nope. On twenty-four. Well," he paused. "On forty-eight. I'm filling in."

Dean frowned. "Does that mean I don't get to see you until Monday?"

"Unless you want to set something on fire," Cas murmured. "I could rescue you." His voice dipped into that gravel territory that shot straight to Dean's groin.

"You're setting something on fire right now," he muttered. "Stop that."

Cas chuckled and the sound sent little sparks of heat up Dean's spine. "You want to come in? Have a beer?"

Dean stood reluctantly. "Nah, I better not. I really do reek."

"Of manhood and strength," Cas defended tartly.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, that. With a healthy side of gasoline and motor oil."

Cas stood too, tucking one hand in the back pocket of his navy canvas pants. _Those goddamn pants,_ Dean thought.

"Thanks for coming by," Cas said low.

Dean's hand played with the door handle of the impala. The silence stretched over the line for a long moment before he huffed, clenching his fist. "Get your ass over here," he ordered.

Cas laughed, hanging up the phone. He jogged across the street, steps steady and sure, not slowing until he had Dean pressed against the impala's window. Dean scarcely had time to suck in a breath before Cas' mouth descended, moving over his in a hungry mash of lips and teeth and tongue.

"I like gasoline and motor oil," Cas growled in his ear. He squeezed Dean's hips before he turned and jogged back across the street.

Stunned, Dean exhaled. "Thanks," he breathed but Cas was already waving from the shadows of the firehouse.

...


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note: **__You know how Cas thought Dean was spoiled? Yeah. You guys are spoiled rotten. Sadly, our fun daily updates are coming to an end. My holiday is over. *sobs* (Don't worry, I won't abandon your smutty needs. It will just be a little slower to arrive. Think if it as extended foreplay. Yup.) Enjoy!_

...

"So, I, uh," Gabe cleared his throat and switched the phone from one hand to the other. "I might have asked Cas and Dean to come with us," he said in a rush.

Sam grinned, nodding to the nurse who handed him a chart for his signature.

"Chickenshit," he ribbed. He scratched out his name in a swirl of loops and curls. The nurse batted her eyelashes when he returned her pen and he winked.

Gabe groaned. "I _know_. God, what's _wrong_ with me"

Sam chuckled, walking away from the nurse's station, much to the disappointment of Nurse Maggie. "Performance anxiety?"

"Very funny," Gabe said wryly. "Although, don't you have a pill for that?"

"If you need a pill to stomach going out with me, this is probably a bad idea all round." Sam looked out of the wall of windows in the waiting area, frowning at the dark clouds on the horizon. They were supposed to go to the drive-in tonight, a slasher movie was playing that he was sure every teenager in the tri-county area would be attending. He would probably spend the majority of the film dissecting the inaccurate portrayal of blood spatter and mistaken organ locations. Unless the evening went well. And then he planned on not paying much attention to the movie at all.

There was a reason he really liked the drive-in.

"It's not that," Gabe assured him quickly, swallowing hard. He felt like he was going to puke. "I'm just afraid I'll throw up all over you."

Sam laughed. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time."

"Yeah, but probably not on a first date." Gabe groaned. _"Why_ do you make me so fucking crazy? Can you try to be uglier or shorter so I don't feel so inadequate? Mismatch your socks or something."

"You're not inadequate," Sam said, voice dropping an octave. "And I like a big height difference. It makes things... interesting."

Gabe swallowed again. "Son of a bitch," he exhaled. "Excuse me while I go get rid of my lunch."

Sam chuckled. "Take an antacid, shortstack and I'll see you in two hours."

"Sam!" Gabe's voice was anxious.

"Yes."

The silence stretched between them for a beat.

"Nothing. Just having a heart attack. It's over."

Sam grinned. "Well, if you want to have another one later, the doctor will be in. My resuscitation skills are a thing of legend."

"Oh no you don't. Don't _do_ that," Gabe whined.

Sam hung up, smile wide and locked firmly in place. Just where in the hell was he going to find mismatched socks?

...

They took Sam's truck, his cherry red Dodge Ram extended cab the largest vehicle available that would hold all four men comfortably.

"Nice truck, Sam," Cas said approvingly, petting the leather seats.

"It's big, right?" Sam's grin was lively. "Manly." He growled for effect.

Gabe blanched.

"Sammy's overcompensating for the hair," Dean quipped. He leaned over the back seat and patted Gabe on the shoulder. "I think that's all he's overcompensating for, though," he stage-whispered reassuringly.

"Because Dean's a raging bull in the sack," Sam said drily. "Ask anyone."

"I can actually vouch for that," Cas said indifferently.

"Aw, cripes," Sam groaned. "I forgot you were back there."

Dean grinned. "And now that _that's_ been settled." He threw an arm over the back of the seat, toying with the hair at the back of Cas' neck. "Let's eat."

"You _just ate._" Sam said in disgust.

"That was dinner. I'm talking popcorn. And chocolate covered raisins."

"Junior Mints." Gabe perked up. Sam's fingers tapped his knee, drawing his eyes to his legs. Sam's jeans were hiked up unattractively high on his calves and Gabe frowned. _What the hell?_ Then he grinned. One blue sock. One green.

"Hey, I think they sell apples and water bottles now, Sammy. For the loser vegans." Dean broke off, swearing under his breath, oblivious to the front seat shenanigans. Namely because in the back seat, Cas' hand had migrated to his upper thigh and was still moving. He grabbed it, halting its progress.

"Don't forget we're still up here," Sam reminded his passengers, grinning at them in the rearview mirror. "This is supposed to be a romantic first date. Not a teenage groping session."

"Have you ever even had one of those," Dean asked. He tucked Cas' hand into his, squeezing the fingers. He held them possibly an inch or two too close to his crotch just in case Sam was extra nosey and glanced into the back again. And because it made his cock twitch in an excited, needy agony that he was inordinately fond of. _Goddamned sexy fireman._

"I've had _plenty_ of first dates," Sam insisted. He belatedly realized how that sounded and gave Gabe a shy grin. "And plenty of second and third dates too," he winked.

"I meant groping sessions, douchebag. I hope for poor Gabe's sake you know all the wondrous and amazing things your body can do."

Gabe, who had been uncharacteristically silent most of the night, smiled. "Finally. Something _I_ can contribute."

Sam blushed.

Cas laughed softly, enjoying the banter, the company, and the warm hand pressing into his. "Leave them alone, Dean," he admonished. "You didn't have anyone harassing you with pointers on _our_ first date."

"That's because you're a slut," Dean said cheerfully.

"And you're an easy drunk," Cas pointed out smoothly.

Dean grinned. He opened his mouth on a retort and found himself with a mouthful of Cas. He sighed happily.

"I'm decidedly _not_ looking in the rearview mirror," Sam said firmly. "But I can hear you smacking." He pulled up to the drive-in ticket gate and leaned forward to pull his wallet from his back pocket.

"Mmm," Dean licked his lips. "Dessert."

Cas chuckled, pecking a short kiss to Dean's wet lips. "Later," he whispered in his ear.

"That'll be twelve dollars, sir," the girl at the window said. She peered into the truck, eyes widening at the too-close pair in the back seat. Sam opened his wallet, starting when a fist shoved a twenty-dollar bill into his chest.

"I'm buying," Gabe said with a warning glare.

Sam grinned at his fierce look and took the money. "You can absolutely do that." He leaned onto a fist, elbow propped in the open window, and winked at his passenger. "You gonna be uptight and tense all night? I'm starting to think I should have pulled a Cas and got you drunk first."

"Hey," Cas protested from the back seat.

Gabe's skin was starting to tingle from the way Sam's eyes traveled hotly over his face and neck. _On the contrary_, he thought. His nerves were finally settling down into a nice, excited hum. He smiled slowly. "Oh, I'm a little drunk, don't worry." He peered at Sam through his lashes.

Sam laughed softly. _Finally._ "Bout time," he murmured. He passed Gabe his change and let his fingers linger a shade too long in his palm.

"Can we go already?" Dean's head popped up between the seats. "There'll be time enough for your sweet, sweet courting bullshit later, after Cas and I have dumped you two to have hot manly sex."

"How are you my brother," Sam asked in amazement, slotting the gearshift into drive. "It's like a miracle of science."

"Just drive, Samuel. I have groping to do." Dean relaxed into the back seat. He might have snuggled Cas tight against his side, glancing surreptitiously at front of the truck.

Cas snorted softly. "Your secret is safe with me," he crooned in Dean's ear.

Dean grinned, tucking his arm around Cas' shoulder. "Yeah? What's that?"

"That you're a no slouch in the courting department yourself."

"Yeah?" Dean practically preened. "Well," he admitted gruffly. "You're okay too. What with your," he waved his hand up and down Cas' body. "Personal accoutrements and what not."

Cas' laughter rang out. In the front seat Sam shot an amused glance at Gabe who returned it with a raised eyebrow and a hand in the air as if to say, _What are you going to do?_

...

The movie tanked. Which for Dean meant he was sporting two new hickeys under the neckline of his t-shirt.

"I'm getting too old for this," he mused, pulling Cas' face away from his neck.

Cas smacked his lips. "I'm not," he leered, wagging his eyebrows. He unbuttoned the top button of Dean's fly with a flick of his wrist.

"Hey, now," Dean protested, glancing out the window. Gabe and Sam had left to get drinks at intermission.

"We have at least five minutes," Cas murmured, lips reattaching to Dean's neck. "That's plenty of time." He pushed his fingers into Dean's fly.

Dean grunted, screwing his eyes shut._ Holy Mary mother of God._ "Cas, you have to stop. I can't have sex in the back of my brother's truck. _In five minutes or less."_

"Can't or won't," Cas asked calmly, pulling Dean's zipper down as far as it would go. He smiled at the ridge of hard flesh springing to life under his hand.

"Won't, you horny asshole, now stop manhandling me." Dean pried the searching fingers from his fly, tempering the movement with a kiss to the knuckles.

Cas huffed into his mouth. "I _am_ horny, Dean. Let's go home."

Dean chuckled around Cas' mouth, letting him apply a very convincing argument with lips and tongue. He spotted his brother's goofily tall frame looming over a much shorter one in the distance. "They're back," he warned, pushing Cas away again.

Cas sighed dramatically, zipping Dean's pants with a theatrical flourish. "There. Satisfied?" Dean grunted when he slapped his fly lightly.

"No," he growled. "I'm not _satisfied._" He reached for Cas' waist. He had time for one more kiss.

Cas scooted to the far side of the truck. "Nope. You made your proverbial bed, now you can lie in it."

Dean's groan was loud and long when Sam opened the door to hand him his food.

"Please tell me that's not your O face. I feel sorry for you Cas, that's kinda scary."

"Oh shut up," Dean muttered despondently. He grabbed the bag of popcorn and soda. "Where are my Raisinettes?"

"Hold your horses, sheesh." Sam dug the yellow box from his hip pocket. "What did you do, Cas? He's usually so much more endearingly sweet."

"I only gave him half a blow job." Cas' expression was serious.

Sam's eyes bugged.

"No you didn't," Dean objected, blushing hard. "Sam, he _did not._"

Sam shook his head. "I legit don't want to know." He shut the door on Dean's protests.

"Sam!" Dean frowned at Cas. "_Jerkface._"

"_Gorgeous boyfriend_," Cas corrected with a wicked grin, sliding quickly across the seat and kissing Dean gently.

Dean sighed. "Forgiven." His chest inflated at Cas' words_._ He hadn't been anyone's boyfriend in about fifteen years.

"Good. Now give me some popcorn." Cas bent his head to sip at Dean's sugary soda.

"What are they doing," Dean asked when Sam and Gabe didn't immediately return to the front seat.

Cas peered into the bed of the pickup. "Looks like Sam brought chairs." He watched as Sam sprung one of the chairs open and handed it to Gabe before working on the second. Cas propped an elbow on the seatback and grinned. "Does that mean we can go back to necking?"

Dean laughed, pointing a finger in warning. "No!"

"Prude."

"Tramp," Dean grumbled under his breath with a grin. He popped a chocolate covered raisin in his mouth and gave Cas a sidelong glance. "So are you moving in with Gabe or what?"

They had been '_seeing each other'_ for almost three weeks now. Seeing each other being a quaint euphemism for spending every spare moment wrapped around all the naked body parts they could get manage. Although they did come up for air occasionally for food or television. Dean had been shocked to discover they shared the same fondness for steak and baked potatoes and cherry pie, and _Star Trek_ and _The Twilight Zone_. And true crime show reruns, although Cas teased that Dean just had a weakness for men in uniform.

Dean couldn't argue with that. More than once he had been exceedingly happy to open his front door to find Cas decked out in his yellow slicker and canvas overalls.

And nothing else.

Cas was still living at the fire station, although on most of his twenty-four hour "off" days, he inevitably ended up in Dean's bed for the duration. Dean wasn't complaining, he just found it rather ironic that he couldn't remember what he did with himself before Cas appeared in his life. On more than one occasion Sam had accused him of '_moping' _when Cas was at work.

Dean did not _mope_ over some guy.

He was simply bored. And he enjoyed the sex. Which meant he was bored _and_ horny and he paced around the kitchen and the living room dusting and vacuuming and generally making a nuisance of himself while Cas was somewhere across town wearing too-tight fireman pants. WithoutDeanto enjoy the view_._

_Oh all right_, Dean thought grudgingly. Maybe he moped.

He would just be a lot happier if Cas moved in with Gabe. Cas' living situation at the fire station made Dean nervous. It wasn't living with the other men in close quarters (no one could be as lavishly attentive as Cas if he was screwing around behind Dean's back). It was the very _temporary_ pall that hung over Cas himself. As far as Dean could tell from his few visits to the station, Cas had never even unpacked. He was still living out of a suitcase and he had several boxes of personal belongings stored in Gabe's garage, neatly marked but securely taped shut, ready for transport.

All in all, it was making Dean very anxious.

"I haven't decided," Cas said with a shrug. "I'm not really roommate material."

Dean frowned slightly. "You're just going to live out of a suitcase forever? That sounds real homey."

Cas watched Dean's carefully schooled expression. "Not forever," he admitted reluctantly. "But for now, yeah."

Dean ate another raisin, eyes trained on the movie screen.

Cas sighed to himself. He wasn't ready. He had been telling himself for days that he was, that he could do it, move in with Gabe, take over half the rent and utilities and finally settle down. Or heck, find his own place. He was capable of living alone; Lord knew he had done it often enough in his thirty plus years. And the thought of laying Dean out on his own mattress, with no constraints or fear of a wandering brother's inopportune timing; well, that picture alone made Cas' mouth go dry. He would very much like to hear Dean cry out his name in abandon.

But every time the subject of moving came up, he tensed, a clawing panic rising in his throat, choking him. So he simply avoided it. Gabe had stopped asking, because he understood. Dean, however, was working with faulty information and not enough back-story, and although Cas was suffering some guilt about that, he wasn't ready to face it yet either.

He opened his mouth on an innuendo-laden crack intended to distract Dean from serious thoughts when his phone buzzed against his hip. Dean glanced over as he dug it from his pocket.

Cas read the text message and swore. "Fuck, I'm sorry, baby." He leaned over to kiss Dean's cheek. "I gotta go."

He was on the ground before Dean could react. Dean scrambled from his side and jogged around the cab. "What is it?"

Cas was tapping out a response. Sam and Gabe had both stood when Cas appeared, expressions troubled. "Fire, warehouse district. All hands on deck."

"I can drop you off," Sam said, already reaching for his keys.

"No," Cas said, holding up a hand. "Jeff's close. He's going to stop at the gate and pick me up." His smile encompassed the group but his eyes were on Dean. "Sorry to grope and run."

Dean squeezed between the bumper and Sam's lawn chair. He held Cas' face in his hands and kissed him, sorrier than ever that he had broached an uncomfortable topic and ended their night on a sour note. "Be careful," he whispered.

Cas squeezed the wrist against his jaw. "I'm always careful." He winked.

Dean snorted and stepped back, grinning. "Not always," he reminded him with a knowing smirk.

"Oh okay, gross," Sam complained, rubbing his eyes.

Cas chuckled and backed away. "I'll call you."

It was their code for _I'll let you know I'm back safe and sound so you can sleep._ Dean had not taken the first late night fire so well and had lain awake, tossing fitfully, barely making it through the following day.

It was the only time Cas had left him to wonder. He knew well what it was to wait up for someone and never hear. Dean's frantic kiss and trembling fingers when he had shown up in his classroom late the next afternoon had shaken Cas more than he cared to admit.

Sam's phone rang and he sighed when he saw the hospital call service number. "Looks like I'm up too, boys." He smiled at Gabe. "Rain check, Goodwin?"

Gabe heaved a heavy sigh. "For the love of Pete. So far we totally suck at this."

Sam chuckled. "It's okay. We can practice." He nodded to Dean. "Turn your head, dickwad."

Dean snorted but turned his back on the two. He squirmed when it was silent, wanting desperately to sneak a peek. This ranked right up there with the time he walked in on a half-naked Jo with her legs wrapped around a teenage Sammy's waist as the most awkward experience of his life, but he strangely enjoyed it just the same. His brother. And a man. _Gabe_, no less. Wisecracking, opinionated, practical jokester _Gabe_.

"Are you done yet?" He fidgeted restlessly, wondering how dangerous the fire Cas was hurtling towards was going to be.

Sam lifted his head, eyes sparkling in the light from the movie screen. "Yeah. I'm done."

Gabe blinked. "Wow, hotstuff. I like your tongue."

"Oh God," Dean groaned, covering his ears.

Sam brushed a thumb across Gabe's damp lower lip. "I'll make sure you get reacquainted very soon."

"La la la la," Dean sang.

"Okay, jackass," Sam laughed. "Get in the car so I can drop you off. I have people to save."

Gabe swooned. "Sweet Mary. I'm having a heart attack again."

Dean clapped him on the back. "S'okay. I know CPR."

Gabe grimaced. "Well that nipped that erection right in the bud."

"Hey," Dean protested, climbing in the back of the pickup. He loomed over the seat and Gabe jumped. "Although, I hear they have a pill for that. Good thing _hotstuff_ here is a doctor."

"Don't engage," Sam warned under his breath.

Gabe grinned. "Annndd...it's back."

"Oh God," Dean repeated, falling back against the seat.

Gabe laughed all the way to the hospital parking lot.

...

"Mr. Winchester." Uriel's voice startled Dean. He was just reaching for the impala's door, a soft rain beginning to fall, casting a shine on the hospital parking lot pavement. Gabe had already hopped into his tiny Cooper and drove off.

"Uriel," Dean nodded, frowning. "What are you doing here? Everything all right?"

Uriel flinched as the mist changed to droplets, coating his face in cold wetness. He turned up his collar to protect his neck. "New grandbaby. A girl." He smiled and his teeth shone starkly white against his dark skin.

"Congratulations," Dean said tugging on the door handle. "Well, I'll see you Monday."

"Dean."

Dean hesitated. Uriel was standing too close, as if he wanted to either emphasize a point by using his size as an intimidation tactic or he wanted to speak privately. "Yeah?"

"I've had a complaint about something in regards to your personal life."

Dean blinked, a pebble of dread sinking in his stomach, then beginning to grow. "Okay."

Uriel studied him. "Aren't you going to ask me what it is?"

Dean leaned on the driver's door and it clicked shut again. "I think I can guess. "

"And you're unconcerned? Don't you want to know who filed the complaint?"

Dean shook his head and crossed his arms. "It doesn't matter. For one thing, my personal life is just that. _My_ personal life. And nothing in my life goes against any of the personnel policies of the Sioux Falls School District." He saw the jab hit home when Uriel's face darkened. He had never really cared for the intolerant bastard, but they had always gotten along on a professional level.

"I took a chance on you," Uriel said quietly. "Most folks might be uncomfortable with a male teacher for the youngest of students. Don't make me regret my decision."

Dean opened the door again. "Since I don't really believe it was one of my parents' who complained, it's all good. See you Monday." Dean slammed his door and thrust his key into the ignition with just a little too much force.

Uriel was still standing in the parking lot, watching him, when Dean pulled away.

...

"Looks like they've almost got it," Dean breathed a sigh of relief. It was a little after one a.m. and the local all-night news station had a camera crew on location at the fire in the warehouse district. He had been dressed and reaching for his keys an hour ago when Gabe had called to see how he was holding up. Gabe had convinced him to sit tight; he would only be in the way if he drove downtown.

There were still flames shooting skyward, but they were clearly sparser, more controlled. The trucks that surrounded the blackened shell of the building that had burned had ladders extended, and the huge hoses continued to spray cooling water over the smoldering ruins. Dean's eyes had been trained on the yellow slickers, unsuccessfully trying to discern which one protected a particular slim body.

Gabe yawned. "You think you can handle it now, hotshot? I'm beat."

"I could have handled it," Dean grumbled. "I was fine."

"Sure you were," Gabe chuckled tiredly. "Tell my brother I said goodnight." He hung up, smiling. Dean was hopeless. His smile faltered as he studied the phone in his hand. Cas, in his own way, was just as bad. If the stupid ass would drop his guard for one _fucking_ minute and let Dean in, he might find out that sometimes things really _were_ as simple as they seemed.

...

Dean was sitting on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees, researching recipes for homemade clay when the knock sounded. He glanced at the clock on the DVD player; it was two thirty five. He pulled open the door to find Cas leaning against the frame, smiling tiredly, a smudge of black on his cheek.

"I'd give my line about Jesus, but I'm too damned tired," Cas laughed quietly.

"Get in here," Dean murmured, tugging him inside. "What are you doing? You should have just called and gone to bed at the station." He removed Cas' heavy slicker, tossing it to the floor and fretting over the reddened marks on his wrist. "What's this?"

Cas flinched. "Lost a glove somewhere. I'm okay," he crowded against Dean, lifting his face for a kiss.

Dean pushed their lips together, trying to swallow back the remnants of his apprehension. "Let me get the first aid kit." He started to walk away and Cas stopped him with a tired grab.

"Wait, Dean," he said quietly, leaning heavily against him. "Let's just stand here for a minute, okay?"

Dean frowned but let Cas gather him close, nose buried under his ear. He rubbed his back. "You sure you're okay?"

"Mm hmm," Cas murmured against his neck. "Just need you."

Dean's heart pitched, longing and relief equally mixed. He nuzzled the dark hair at his jaw. "I'm going to run you a bath. You smell like Sam's cooking."

Cas chuckled and leaned back. "You going to wash my back, Mr. Winchester?" His dark eyelashes fluttered sleepily on his too-pale cheeks and Dean dipped his head to kiss them, lips lingering a second too long against his skin. Cas squeezed his waist.

"I'm amenable to that proposal." He started to walk Cas backwards across the living room.

"Mmm, Teacher. Talk fancy to me, baby." Cas' throaty growl hit Dean low in his gut and he squirmed, flushing.

"I observed the blazing inferno on my liquid crystal display television," Dean began in his best storytime voice, peppering light kisses along Cas' cheekbone.

Cas snorted. "Liquid crystal display?"

"LCD. Shut up," Dean shushed him. "I particularly reveled in the manner in which the elongated ladder mechanism gave height and mobility to the firefighter's pulsing well of water over the flames." Dean slipped the wide elastic straps of the overalls off Cas' shoulders, gently untangling his sore wrist.

Cas' eyes were wide, enchanted on Dean's mouth. _"Fuck_" he breathed. "Don't stop."

Dean grinned. "I'd wash my five-year-olds' mouth out with dish soap if they used that language in the classroom, Mr. Novak."

Cas kissed him, unable to resist Dean's full lips another instant. "No you wouldn't," he gasped. _Damn, _he would never get tired of the things Dean's mouth could do. "You're completely gone on those little heartbreakers."

"I'm completely gone on _you,_" Dean whispered, catching Cas' tongue when it made a soft pass over his lips.

"Mmm," Cas murmured. "Mutual, Dean. I promise."

Dean's heart swelled to scary heights as he guided Cas through the bathroom door. "You get naked," he winked, covering. "I'll start your water."

The steam rose steadily in the room, and Dean reached behind him to shut the door, turning the lock.

"Expecting visitors," Cas questioned, eyebrows raised. He let his pants fall to his ankles and Dean bent over to slip them off his feet. He ran his palms up Cas' slim calves.

"Nope," he said softly, "I just like being locked up with you." He peeled the boxer shorts from his legs. Cas combed his fingers through Dean's hair, tightening when Dean's mouth hovered next to his stomach, kissing his abdomen gently.

"Dean," he breathed.

Dean stood, exhaling shakily. "Get in, babe."

Cas pointed at him, stepping over the edge of the tub. "Something tells me you'd be a dirty fighter."

Dean smiled. "I'm not fighting." The converse of that hung over them in the too-small room and Dean swallowed a fit of nerves, the words so close to the surface. Cas looked away first, slipping into the hot water. Dean knelt at the side of the tub, reaching for the shampoo.

"Duck under," he said quietly.

Cas grinned, eyes closed, and obliged, exhaling when he emerged, water lapping the sides of the tub. Dean lathered his hair, massaging the back of his head with deft strokes.

"Mmm," Cas hummed in pleasure, face tranquil as he melted against the end of the tub. "Now this, I could get used to."

Dean smiled, and concentrated the circular motions lower on his neck, feeling the tightly corded muscles there. "You're a hot mess," he murmured.

Cas chuckled. "Aw, baby, you say the sweetest things." He turned his head when Dean nudged him, giving him more access.

Dean finished at his temples, applying soothing, gentle pressure strokes, unable to resist leaning forward to kiss his cheek, rosy from the heat and steam.

"Rinse."

Cas ducked under again, using his own hands to free the suds from his hair. He sputtered when he broke free of the water. "Shit, that stings."

Dean grabbed his wrist, frowning. "I forgot. Let me see that."

Cas chuckled, patting his hand. "So did I. You're very distracting." His fingers ran a wet trail up Dean's forearm. "Let's get back to bath time."

Dean ignored him, stepping over to the medicine cabinet and scrounging through the bottles and tubes there. He sank back to his knees with burn ointment and a clean washcloth. He set them on the edge of the tub. "As soon as we're finished," he warned.

Cas grinned, looking up at Dean through dark lashes. "Why do I get the feeling you're telling me to behave?"

Dean snorted. "Because I am," he said sternly. He shrugged his t-shirt over his head and dropped it to he floor.

"And _that's_ your incentive? Jesus Christ," Cas moaned, one hand trailing over Dean's stomach.

Dean pushed his hand away laughing. "Stop that. You're getting me all wet."

"That's sort of my master plan, Dean," Cas rubbed an errant fingertip over Dean's nipple, liking the surprised gasp the motion elicited. "Keep you wet."

"Very funny," Dean grumbled, bringing that goddamn finger to his mouth and biting it gently. "Behave."

"Get in," Cas challenged with an arched eyebrow.

Dean studied him, huffing a laugh. "You're incorrigible."

"Oh _God,_" Cas groaned, dropping his head against the back of the tub, eyes dark and hot on Dean's mouth. "Talk dirty to me, Mary Poppins."

Dean snorted and stood, working the buttons on his fly with nimble fingers. He dropped his jeans to the floor, smirking at Cas' face when he realized Dean had forgone underwear.

"_Christ,_ Dean. Give a guy some warning."

"Scoot up." Dean kissed his ear, pushing Cas forward so he could slip into the tub behind him.

Cas settled between his legs, the tub almost too small, water sloshing over into the floor.

"We're making a mess," Cas murmured, head lolling against Dean's shoulder.

"I'll clean it up, you relax." Dean soaped a washcloth and began to wash Cas' arm, being careful to avoid the burns. Cas' breathing evened as he worked, first one arm, then the other, Dean running the cloth over every inch, from the juncture of his shoulder to the webbing between his fingers. He gently laid each hand on the side of the tub as he finished. _God,_ he loved Cas' hands.

Cas' stomach quivered when he ran the washcloth over his chest, dipping low under the water.

"I'd help but I seem to be paralyzed," Cas managed to mumble.

Dean rubbed their jaws together. "You just lie there and let me have my fun."

"Even if I wanted to argue, I couldn't," Cas sighed, turning his face into Dean's neck as Dean's fingers closed around him. "Dean," he bit his lip.

"Too much," Dean asked, releasing the rag into the water and watching his fingers as they began to stroke. He felt Cas' breath hitch against his chest.

Cas shook his head, and Dean saw his hands grasp the edge of the tub.

"Shh," Dean whispered kissing his jaw. He pulled long and slow, massaging the base, then brushing lightly across the tip under the water, the warm liquid adding a new sensation to an act he had come to love. He loved touching Cas, all of him. He was the ultimate responsive partner, opening up under Dean's hands and mouth, unabashed, even when Dean had been hesitant with this new breed of sex. Yet at his most passionate, Cas had always taken care of _Dean_. Tonight, Dean wanted to give some of that back, to completely relax, satiate him, so Cas would sleep, restful and deep. He deserved it.

He felt Cas tense under him and he increased the speed of his fist incrementally. "More?"

"Yes," Cas breathed, back arching. "Oh God, don't stop."

"I wouldn't," Dean promised between kisses. "I won't." He sucked the rough stubble of his jaw between his teeth, wishing he had thought to shave him too. _Next time._

Cas cried out softly, hand slipping under the water to clasp Dean's, fingers entwining, riding along on the finishing strokes.

He collapsed against Dean's chest, water sloshing into the floor again, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. "I'm never leaving this tub," he said huskily, body still twitching.

Dean laughed softly, hands milking the last ounce of pleasure for him, fingers slowing and finally releasing him. He wrapped his arms around his waist to hug him close. "The water's going to get cold," he whispered. "Let me put you to bed."

Cas closed his own arms around Dean's. "In a minute," he breathed. They lay in the tub until the water indeed became too cool to be comfortable. At the first sign of shivering gooseflesh, Dean nudged him forward. "Let me up."

Cas growled but he sat up, blinking sleepily. "You're still a god," he murmured, eyeing Dean's strong thighs.

Dean laughed self-consciously, wrapping a towel around his waist. "You're still prejudiced."

"Maybe," Cas admitted, accepting a hand up. He leaned against the sink, letting Dean continue his careful ministrations, drying his hair, rubbing warmth back into his skin, wrapping him up in a soft towel. Dean smoothed salve over his burns before applying a wide bandage, leading him to the bedroom and tucking him under the sheets in his wide bed.

Cas cupped his cheek when he bent over to brush a kiss across his lips. "You're good at this," he whispered as his eyes drifted closed.

Dean smiled sadly as he left to empty the tub and throw the towels in the laundry basket. Instinctively he understood that Cas didn't see himself in the same light.

...


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note:**__ One week's research is clearly not long enough to encompass the whole of the fascinating field of smokejumping. Please allow for writer inaccuracies due to too many root beers and not enough pie. Or firsthand knowledge. Also, please note that smokejumping, although explicitly dangerous by very nature (and scary!), has an amazing safety record that I am going to stomp all over in this piece of fiction. I apologize in advance to smokejumper crews everywhere._

_..._

It was hot, an inferno. The rolling black clouds were so thick that Cas couldn't see and he swiped frantically at the mask on his helmet, knocking his oxygen loose. He hurriedly popped it back into place, coughing on the mouthful of acrid smoke he had inadvertently sucked into his lungs. He had to keep moving. He swung the Pulaski at the tree limbs in his way, hacking a path through the brush, his own breath loud in his ear. The fire crackled, too close, and there was a loud crash behind him, a tree falling. He increased his pace; he could see a break up ahead, daylight.

He staggered through the wall of smoke, popping free of the hot zone, only to find himself standing precariously on the edge of a cliff. The river rushed hundreds of feet below, churning, foaming rapids. He turned back to the blazing treeline as a ring of orange flames encircled his escape.

He was trapped.

...

Cas blinked.

His heart pounded in his throat and he gasped in a lungful of blessedly sweet, clean air. He wasn't in the forest. He relaxed his grip on the sheets and remembered; he was in Sioux Falls, in Dean's bed. He turned his head, Dean's face tucked in close to his on the adjacent pillow, the light rise and fall of his chest visible in the dark room. The alarm clock on the nightstand read just after five a.m.

He sat up carefully, rubbing a palm across his mouth. The dream always came after a big blaze, taunting him, reminding him there were things he could never escape.

He slid out of the bed, smiling ruefully at his nudity. He glanced around but didn't see his clothes; Dean had probably thrown them in the laundry. He'd been doing that a lot lately, throwing Cas' clothes in with his own. They had spent an oddly endearing evening the week prior, folding socks and sorting t-shirts while they watched the bossy cake guy on television.

Dean had graciously ignored the way Cas kept staring at the laundry basket, at his and Dean's items mixed up, jumbled together. Comfortably natural.

He quietly retrieved underwear and socks, jeans and a t-shirt from Dean's chest of drawers, and dressed. He didn't dare kiss Dean goodbye, for fear of waking him.

He swallowed the brief sting of guilt as he pulled the front door closed behind him and walked to his truck.

...

"What'd you pack me, master chef?" Dean peered into the large picnic basket on the kitchen table.

Sam snorted, leaning against the counter. "I can't believe you're doing the auction this year. Aren't you kind of off the market?"

Dean looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean? It's a fundraiser for the PTO."

Every year the parents and teachers organization at Meyer Elementary offered a picnic basket auction and bake sale the weekend before Halloween as their main fall fundraiser. It was a nostalgic throwback to pie and picnic sales of yesteryear, and had become the highlight of the annual fall carnival.

"No it's not," Sam said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Yes it is," Dean insisted. But his neck was turning pink above his shirt collar.

"No, it's a '_who pays the most to get into Dean Winchester's pants'_ basket sale," Sam said wryly.

"Wow, Sam," Dean said, eyebrows raised. "You do realize that makes you my pimp."

"I'm just saying, at what point in the short and misguided history of the PTO fall picnic sale have you _not_ ended up sleeping with the buyer?"

Dean squirmed but was silent, futzing with the cloth napkins peeking prettily from the edge of the basket lid.

'That's what I thought." Sam grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter, tossing it in the air as he disappeared down the hall.

Dean muttered to himself as he rearranged the items in his basket so they wouldn't spill when he drove to the park.

"Aha," he shouted triumphantly, pumping his fist in the air. "Mrs. Bedowsky! Two thousand ten!"

"Doesn't count," Sam called from the bathroom.

"It so too counts, you jackass. I did not sleep with prune faced old Mrs. Bedowsky!"

"No," Sam said, sticking his head out of the door. "But you _did_ sleep with her niece, Maryellen."

Dean opened his mouth and then snapped it closed.

Sam ducked back into the bathroom. "You better hope Cas doesn't hear about this, that's all I'm saying."

Dean rolled his eyes. _How would Cas hear about it?_

_._..

Cas heard about it.

Apparently it was common knowledge (at least in the fire station) that Dean Winchester's picnic basket was your basic nooner with a side of guaranteed orgasm. Because '_Dean was a considerate lover'. _The knowing glances and quickly silenced snorts of laughter combined with the previous night's measly two hours of sleep put Cas in a royally foul mood.

And furthermore, no matter whose hands a fucking picnic basket landed in, Dean was still _Cas'_ nooner and by God he was still _Cas' _guaranteed orgasm.

Cas swung by the ATM before he went to the picnic.

...

"And here we have a carnival favorite, a basket from our very own kindergarten teacher, Mr. Winchester." Uriel lifted Dean's basket up high. He smiled at Dean, expression smug. _Asshole._ "What have you packed for your lunch date, Dean? Or is your brother still the primary cook at your house?"

"Oh, I think the surprise is the best part," Dean returned smoothly, smiling at the crowd. He refused to play into Uriel's mindgames, the previous night's conversation still at the back of his mind.

"Twenty-five dollars," called a prim voice from the back of the crowd, and everyone laughed.

"I guess that mean's we've begun," Uriel said. "Do I have another?"

Dean grinned. _Good old Mrs. Bedowsky. _He was pretty sure Maryellen had moved to Memphis and gotten married, so Mrs. B would be the perfect lunch companion.

"Forty." The second voice was sultry, sophisticated.

Dean's head shot up. _Shit._ Pamela Barnes. He scanned the crowd; he had totally forgotten that the sexy real estate agent had recently divorced her fourth husband. She had been Fall Carnival 2007. And oh what a basket it had been.

"Forty-five." This was a new voice, a petite blonde standing two persons to his left. She smiled at him timidly and he nodded his head, twitching uncomfortably. _Why did he never listen to Sam?_

"Seventy-five," Pamela returned coolly, and the crowd parted, murmuring. Dean could see her now, mile-long legs encased in dark blue denim and a tight white t-shirt that showed _all_ of her assets off in fine form.

_Shit shit shit._

Uriel cleared his throat, scanning the tense, waiting crowd. "I think we have a –"

"Two hundred dollars." The voice from the back was deep.

Dean's knees felt a little wobbly and he wished desperately a chair would appear behind him.

The crowd buzzed, heads craning, hands covering whispered conversations as a tall, lean, navy canvas pant-wearing firefighter squeezed his way through to the makeshift stage. He brushed past Pamela with a polite, _Excuse me,_ and a decidedly cool onceover, before he stopped directly beneath Uriel's microphone stand.

He didn't spare even a passing glance for Dean, who stood sweating at the edge of the spectators.

"And I'll give you two-fifty if you throw in Mrs. Johnson's cherry pie."

Mrs. Johnson fanned herself with her bright orange flyer of events.

Uriel's gaze narrowed on Cas' calm face. "Any other bids," he asked, and Dean could hear an ugly twist in his tone.

"He's all yours, handsome," Pamela drawled from the back, and the onlookers began to titter, the tension easing.

"Sold." Uriel held the basket out and Cas reached up to claim it.

Dean tried to catch his eye when he passed him to pay the ladies sitting at the moneybox, but Cas strode right on by.

The younger of the two women seated behind the table handed Cas a cherry pie.

"The PTO thanks you for your donation, Mr.—" she hesitated tilting her head.

"Novak," he smiled and counted out the correct bills.

When he turned to leave, Dean was waiting, shifting nervously.

"Hi," he said weakly.

Cas nodded once and walked away, basket in one hand and pie in the other.

Dean sighed, watching him cross the grass. Cas disappeared behind engine number six, deep into the shadows of the fire station bay.

Well that was just _fantastic._

...

"You're an idiot."

Gabe's lips were greasy from the fried chicken leg he held, as he gnawed the last of the crunchy breading and meat from the bone.

"You already said that," Dean groaned, eyes covered by his forearm. He was lying on a blanket, sharing Gabe's picnic basket, the one that _Dean_ had purchased for far too much money, considering he had yet to eat a bite.

"And by the way, the only reason I'm okay with _you_ buying my basket," Gabe picked at his tooth, frowning. _Damn chicken._ "Is because _my_ basket doesn't come with magical orgasms."

"Please shut up," Dean pleaded.

"If it did," Gabe continued, ignoring him. "Then I would have to insist that you give my basket to your brother. And then get lost."

Dean groaned.

"Or _maybe,_" Gabe continued thoughtfully, reaching for a tub of potato salad. "Maybe Sam's the one who has been instilling the Winchester magic in your basket this whole time. Maybe _I_ should have bid against Cas."

"Gabe!" Dean pulled his arm away to glare at him.

"What?"

Dean dropped his arm back down. "Nothing," he said, words muffled. "Eat your potato salad."

Gabe patted his leg in sympathy. He chewed a large spoonful in silence for several seconds. "You gonna let him stew over there with that basket all day or what?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know."

"Seems to me, the quickest way to solve this is to go admit your egotistically insane need for approval from the horny women of Sioux Falls, and fall to your needs in apology." Gabe chuckled. "Fall to your knees, ha ha." He wagged his eyebrows.

Dean stared at him. "You do realize you just made an innuendo about your own brother."

Gabe shrugged. "Eh, what do I know. Maybe you're boring old Mr. Missionary in the sack." He scraped his spoon along the sides of the container.

"I _am not,_" Dean defended hotly. "I'm a stud." He sat up on one elbow and eyed the fire station across the road. The building was peaceful, quiet, gleaming firetrucks nosed out front in honor of the carnival, but no Cas in sight. "And that was my pie," Dean groused. He freaking _loved_ Mrs. Johnson's pies. And Cas damn well knew it; they had had a whole conversation about it while eating a far inferior frozen one while watching ice skating trials on TV (because there was nothing else on; not because Dean enjoyed ice skating. At all). Dean liked to refer to that night as the_ piescapades._

Sam didn't share his fondness for the memory, since he had inadvertently walked in on a rather messy, naked test of the tackiness of cherry filling on the neck versus abdomen. (_Abdomen_.)

Gabe waved his spoon gaily above his head in the direction of the fire station. "So. Go get it, studmuffin."

Dean rolled to his knees and sighed. "I guess I have to, huh."

Gabe snorted. "If you want a prayer of conserving the illusion that you own a set of balls, yes."

Dean hesitated on the edge of the blanket. "On a scale of one to ten, how mad do you think he is about the magical orgasm thing?"

"Forty-two," Gabe mumbled around a mouthful of baked beans.

Dean sighed again. "That's what I was afraid of."

...

"Hello?" Dean ducked his head around the end of the fire truck. "Anyone home?"

"Back here," a gruff voice called.

Dean could hear the muted rise and fall of voices from the kitchen area tucked into the back of the station. He drew up in surprise at the group seated around the table, the remnants of his basket spread across the scarred wooden top.

Cas held a forkful of coleslaw at the edge of his mouth, eyes wide in surprise.

Bobby grunted. "You just gonna stand there gawking or pull up a chair?" He rolled his eyes at Rufus, seated across from him. "Idjit. That boy never did have no sense."

Rufus chuckled, wiping his mouth with a satisfied smile before resting his hands on his stomach. "Yeah, but he packs a _magical_ lunch basket, that be truth."

Cas snorted and ate the bite of slaw.

Dean swallowed and sat in the empty chair. He peered over the edge of the basket and frowned. "You ate it all."

"Well, see, we were told to expect that tingly feeling, way down low." Rufus shrugged.

"Oh Lord," Dean muttered, wiping his face.

"But we just weren't feeling it, so we kept right on going."

"I ain't felt nothin', that's for sure," Bobby grumbled, taking a swig of his beer.

"You ain't felt nothin' below the waist in twenty years," Rufus pointed his fork at him.

"I felt a little tingle," Cas said. "Pass me the pie, Bobby, and I'll cut."

Bobby chuckled. "You're probably just experiencing leftover tingles from last night."

"Bobby!" Dean exclaimed, mortified. He could tell by the heat in his cheeks that his face was at least three different shades of red.

"Dean," Bobby answered calmly. "By the way, I'd like to thank you for bringing Cas round to meet me, like I asked." He looked at Dean pointedly and Dean flushed even hotter.

"I was going to," he mumbled.

"Uh huh," Bobby said drily. "Lucky for you, Cas ain't near the chickenshit you are. And he's a damned good fisherman to boot."

Dean's head popped up. "Since when." There had only been a handful of days when Cas was off and Dean wasn't. Unless you counted school hours, and...wait a minute. "You've been going _fishing _while I'm at work," he asked irritably.

Cas met his gaze coolly. "Well I wasn't making orgasm baskets."

"_I didn't make_ _it_, Sam did." Dean pounded his fist on the table in frustration. "Can I have a piece of pie now?"

And for the first time since he'd arrived, he saw Cas' mouth twitch in amusement. A well of relief flooded through him. _Thank God._

Cas passed slices of pie and the four men chewed in contented silence.

Bobby scooped a plump cherry onto his fork. "So, Cas, what do you think's the likelihood of them making the piescapades an Olympic sport?"

Dean choked on a bite of flaky crust. Rufus thumped him hard on the back.

"Chew, boy," Rufus muttered.

Dean dabbed at his watery eyes, meeting Cas' over the top of the picnic basket. "You all suck," he wheezed.

His three companions began to laugh, loud guffaws that rang out across the lazy Saturday afternoon.

...

The sun was drifting low on the horizon when Cas walked Dean to his car.

"Just how long were you going to let me worry," Dean wondered out loud, arms brushing as they walked.

"How long were you going to wait before you told me about that basket's direct line into your pants?"

Dean grimaced. "That long, huh."

Cas chuckled. "I would have called later. I just needed to get the hell away from you before I laid my claim in front of the entire town of Sioux Falls."

Dean's heart twitched happily. "I think you managed to do that anyway," he said with a wry grin.

Cas' fingers toyed with his when they brushed again. "Does that bother you?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope." He could see Cas smile out of the corner of his eye. He frowned. "It might bother someone, though. Uriel."

Cas leaned on the hood of the sleek, black car. "Why? Did he say something?"

Dean shrugged. "Not directly, no. But he gave me a kind of cryptic warning last night in the hospital parking lot."

Cas glanced around the street lot to make sure they were alone, and pulled Dean between his legs.

Dean dipped his head for a kiss, his whole body relaxing. He hadn't realized how tense he had been, how much he had wanted this, had been waiting for it.

Cas pushed him away so he could stand, a respectable foot of air between them. He played with Dean's fingers again. "He looks like a real douchebag."

"I'd say that's a pretty accurate description," Dean agreed, hiding a shiver. Cas was barely touching him, but it didn't seem to matter. "Don't worry about it. He can't do anything, not really."

Cas leaned forward for another kiss. Dean opened his mouth under him, letting their tongues slide together, warm and sweet.

Cas sighed. "I should get back."

"Tomorrow afternoon? Lunch?"

Cas' twenty-four hour shift would be over by six a.m.

Cas hesitated. He dropped Dean's hand. "Um, actually. I'm going tout of town for a few days. I was going to tell you last night and it slipped my mind with the fire and all."

Dean tensed. "Out of town. Where?" He tried not to read too much into the way Cas avoided meeting his gaze.

"Grand Junction," Cas said lightly. "I need to meet with my old boss, clear up some loose ends."

"Colorado?" Dean frowned. "How long will you be gone?" _Days?_ He was barely surviving the crazy twenty-hour shifts. What was he supposed to do alone for _days?_

"Three or four days, tops." Cas noted his pout and reached for him again. "Don't be like that," he chastised softly. "I'll be back before the weekend. And then you can give me all the food-related orgasms you want."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

Cas grinned. "Now kiss me before we get arrested for indecent exposure."

"We're not indecent."

"We're going to be if I don't walk away right fucking now," Cas growled.

Dean kissed him, trying to convey what he couldn't say in words. Not yet.

"Call me."

Cas saluted, backing away.

Dean unlocked the door of the impala, sliding behind the wheel.

"And Dean," Cas called.

Dean waited, grinning at the picture he made in the center of the road, handsome and dark and sexy. And his.

"I better not find out you've been looking at any prime real estate while I've been gone."

Dean chuckled. "Not a chance," he said. "And take care of my basket. It's a collector's item."

...

_Three Months Ago_

"Check your gear, Danny," Cas advised, watching the young firefighter's wiggly anticipation. It was only Danny's second big fire.

"I checked it, Cas, c'mon." The kid rolled his eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Let's jump to the front of the line."

"Check it again," Cas said smoothly, ignoring his pleas. They would line up just as planned. Cas didn't change procedures midstream; people got killed that way.

Danny grumbled, but he dropped to his knees beside his pack. He dug through the many zippered pockets and enclosures, ticking items off of the written list Cas had handed him.

Cas checked his own pack along with him; it never hurt to be extra cautious.

"Sonofabitch," Danny swore. "Water." He looked at Cas wide-eyed and meek.

Cas hid his sigh. "Finish the list first. Then get the water." The kid was going to be the death of him. He didn't know why Mike kept saddling him with the rookies. The crew foreman had to know it made Cas crazy, patience always a thin veneer, on the verge of snapping. Cas was hardly the best father figure (that was Old Tom) or even the best jumper (that was Balthazar). Maybe it was simply the way the young ones were drawn to Cas' energy. Danny had latched onto Cas, becoming his permanent twenty-two year old shadow, the day he joined the crew.

Danny was fresh out of the Army, having enlisted the day he graduated high school. He was from a long line of firemen, dating back to his great-grandfather during World War II. He was a handsome young thing, muscular build and dark, dark eyes that sparkled against his olive skin. He had shown up for flight training the first day in a t-shirt that read _Italians are the Best Lovers_.

Cas could admit to a brief ping of interest; the kid was a looker.

Balthazar "Baz" Moseby had clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I'd warn you to get in line, but with your pretty face, you're always first anyway."

Cas grinned. "Thanks, old man." It was a running joke. Baz was ten years older, but suavely handsome, and he and Cas had enjoyed a mutual 'friends with benefits' arrangement for months.

"If I recall, it was only last night you were extolling the many virtues of my vast years."

"I was extolling the many virtues of your tongue," Cas replied drily.

"With age comes experience," Baz returned smoothly. "Oh, and I hate to break it to you, but the rookie has a wife and new baby. Hands off, beautiful."

Cas grunted. "Figures."

"My tongue is available later tonight, unless something better turns up."

"Gee, thanks." Cas had laughed.

He and Baz had managed to keep their relationship, such as it was, hidden from the crew. Cas assumed this was simplified by the fact that there was no real emotional involvement, other than a sincere friendship, a situation that suited Cas perfectly. Emotions ran hot enough on the trail, a dirty, dangerous, exhausting thrill ride with no room for anger, second-guessing or partiality. On a jump, they moved and worked as a team. Their lives depended on it.

The current jump was a serious one. The Pike-San Isabel forest fire had been brewing for days, burning in fits and starts before an unlucky and brisk southerly wind had kicked it into a monster that now threatened the towns encroaching on its boundaries. Thousands of acres had already burned and the Colorado smokejump crew commonly known as the Skip Brigade, or Skips for short, had a small window of opportunity to get on the ground and prepare a controlled burn to halt it in its tracks. Ten jumpers would go up in the 'Sherpa', a Short Brothers C-23 twin-engine cargo plane that would carry a fourteen-man crew, including two spotters and two pilots.

Cas left Danny to sort out his pack. Baz found him in the breakroom, tossing back a couple of aspirin with a glass of tap water.

"Headache?"

"Mmm," Cas hummed, rolling his neck. "Didn't sleep."

"Maybe you and the rook should sit this one out."

Cas tossed the Styrofoam cup in the trashcan. "He's fine. He's trained."

Balthazar studied him. "Your soft spot for him is not going to do us any favors today, Cas. Something's off with him."

Cas laughed off Baz' concern, irritation spiking. He disliked the implication that he might be less than objective, less than professional. "He's probably not sleeping either; new baby. He's fine. The kid lives a charmed life, give me a break."

Balthazar shook his head and followed Cas into the locker room. "I don't think so. Lou has seen his wife out at Club Red more than once. Something tells me young Danny hooked his wagon to a wandering soul."

Cas frowned. "She has a new baby, what the fuck is she doing at a dive like the Red?" He had met Brittany DeLuca a handful of times. She had seemed decent enough, sweet, if very young. If he were honest, he might admit that her eyes had followed him a little too closely at times, hungry. He had chalked it up to that saying about new mothers and their libido. Danny was a virile kid; Cas had no doubts about his ability to keep his wife happy. Assuming she wanted to be kept, that is.

He huffed a laugh when Baz pushed him against he lockers suddenly. "What are you up to?"

"You remember the first night I took you to the Red?" Baz nuzzled Cas' neck. "I thought your eyes were going to bug out of your head."

Cas tilted his head, hands tightening on Balthazar's waist. "There were hookers at the damn door. I thought it was a brothel."

Baz laughed and kissed him. "What do you say after we get this little campfire taken care of, we spend the weekend at my cabin."

Cas didn't answer, hooking a hand around Baz' neck. Weekend getaways weren't really their style, but Cas didn't want to go into this fire with an awkward conversation hanging over their heads. So he kissed him instead.

"What the fuck." Danny's voice was shocked, strained.

Cas and Balthazar broke apart.

"Danny," Cas began, flinching when Danny flung his jacket to the floor.

"You're gay?"

Balthazar stepped over to his locker and clicked the door open with a flick of his wrist. "I'm ambiguous."

"Danny," Cas tried again, giving Baz a warning glare. "It's okay."

Danny's eyes were hot, angry. "It's not _okay,_ Cas. I trusted you. I let you in my house. You've held my baby."

Cas laughed darkly. "I'm gay, Danny. Not a contagion."

"You're an abomination in the eyes of God," Danny said softly, shaking his head. His hand went to his neck, slipping the St. Florian medal he wore over his head. He stared at it, rubbing a thumb over the patron saint's face before he closed his fist around it; no jewelry on a jump. He steeled his jaw and looked Cas in the eye. "And I want nothing to do with you."

He backed out of the locker room, as if he were afraid of them now.

Cas met Baz' eyes. "Now what?" He exhaled the tense breath he'd been holding.

A buzzer sounded indicating dispatch was initiating their get-away time. Fifteen minutes.

Baz shrugged. "Now we jump."

Cas followed him from the room, a hard knot of dread in his stomach.

...

Cas noted that Danny had boarded out of their normal order, positioning himself further back in the line, which would ensure he would be one of the first to jump. He didn't draw attention to it, although up until this point, Danny had always jumped immediately before or after Cas.

His face was grim as he watched the rookie, seated near the cargo door. Danny stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze.

Once airborne, flight time was only twenty minutes before the Sherpa was circling the thick plumes of smoke. The spotter, Bill "Smoky" Everett, hung precariously out into the wind, one big, meaty fist tightly wrapped around a canvas bungee strap. Smoky had been flying with the Skips for twenty-five years; there wasn't a better spotter in Colorado. From his vantage point out the back of the cargo bay door, he assessed the wind, terrain and the progress of the fire. Once they were directly overhead, he tossed out a roll of crepe paper streamer to assess the wind speed and direction.

He tapped the mike built into his headset to let the pilot know they were ready. Smoky looked at the jumpers in the plain, expression steady and serious. "Wind's kicking up down there; watch out for downdrafts." He knelt beside the first jumper, helping him into a kneeling position over the port side of the plane.

Jumper away.

Three more went, and then it was Danny's turn.

The pilot circled around again, aligning the plane with the jump site.

"Watch you don't tree up, Rook," Smoky said gruffly. He leaned over to eyeball the plane's angle, hand held steady on the young jumper's back to give him the signal.

Danny jumped.

"Fuck!" Smoky grabbed for the previous jumper's static line, barely ensuring it did not become entangled with Danny's descent. "Goddamn rookie's gonna miss."

Cas was on his feet but Baz was quicker, kneeling in the opening. "Set me up, Smokes. I'll get 'em."

Cas skipped over the next two jumpers, who slapped his back when he passed, one of them muttering, '_Son of a bitchin' rookies are going to kill us all one day'. _Cas knelt in the door to await his turn. He and Baz, and Danny, were employed by the Bureau of Land Management, and jumped with a square ram-air parachute, not requiring the automatically-deploying static line. That would eliminate much of the wait between jumps.

Smoky leaned close to yell into his ear. "Be careful, Angel, it's a gobbler."

Cas nodded once, and then he was away, freefalling.

...

"Excuse me, sir?"

Cas awoke with a start. The flight attendant smiled kindly.

"We're deboarding now."

Cas nodded tiredly and unlatched his seatbelt. He had brought only a small carryon and so was able to skip the luggage carousels and go straight to rental car pickup.

The drive from Grand Junction to the house on Deer Park Circle was too brief; he hadn't yet had time to shake off the melancholy the dreams had stirred up. He turned left off of Broadway, before the two-lane divided, and slowed to a stop on a circular gravel drive. He dug his phone from his pocket.

"Did you parachute or walk off the plane like regular folks?" Dean's voice was amused.

"What are you doing up," Cas asked, the tension already easing from his shoulders. Dean's voice had a way of doing that. "And I see someone's been googling."

They hadn't spoken of Cas' former profession as a smokejumper in more than a passing fashion. Dean had instinctively understood the subject was too painful or traumatic and that Cas wasn't ready to divulge.

"Well, when your boyfriend leaves you to go back to his home state, a guy gets a little nervous. Needs to get familiar with his competition." Dean settled onto the couch, a mug of coffee in hand. It was mid-morning, but he had yet to really start his day. Sundays were for relaxing in his mind.

"First of all, I didn't leave you," Cas pointed out, voice intimate. "And secondly, I don't really have a home state. So, invalid argument."

"Good thing I wasn't arguing then," Dean volleyed. Cas could almost hear his smirk.

Cas hesitated, looking over the dry, scrub brush terrain of the high desert plateau. The buttes and red clay beauty of the Canyonlands lay almost immediately west, and the ancient cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde were south. It was a beautiful and fascinating area, and he was geological nerd enough to have a sudden and fervent wish that he had brought Dean along so he could share it with him.

"I miss you," he said without thinking. His mouth worked once the words were out, but it was too late to drag them back.

He could hear Dean's sigh.

"I miss you too."

"I'll call you later?" Cas started the car again.

"I'll be here." Dean cleared his throat, and Cas could hear him fidgeting.

"Everything all right?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, voice too cheerful. "Awesome. Have fun. Don't flirt with any cute firemen. No pie auctions."

Cas chuckled. "No pies and no firemen. Got it."

"Bye, Cas."

Cas hung up and smiled, wishing again that he hadn't come alone. _Next time, maybe._

...

Dean scrubbed his face with one hand and then grabbed his coffee mug, swigging too fast, burning his tongue. "Dammit," he swore, sucking quick breaths over the burn.

He _had_ been googling, actually. He had spent the previous night on the laptop, sitting up in his bed, researching both the profession of smokejumping and a Colorado unit of jumpers in particular.

What he had read had made him wish he'd kissed Cas one more time, held him a little closer, maybe finally told him that he loved him. Gave him one more reason to come back to Sioux Falls.

Since he'd done none of those things, now Dean had no choice but to wait.

...

Cas rang the doorbell of a large ranch style home, the sounds of television filtering out an open window.

The older woman who opened the door smiled in surprise when she saw him. "Castiel, what a nice surprise." She grabbed him in a quick hug and Cas returned it. Molly Bingham was a saint, as far as he was concerned, and he'd take all the hugs she might dispense. "Now get your handsome self inside and I'll fix you a cup of coffee."

Cas laughed and followed her across the threshold, pulling the door securely shut behind him. The TV was indeed on, a kid's program it would seem by the annoyingly cheerful music, and there were two little bodies nestled in front of it, pushing a wooden train along the floor.

"You've got new recruits, I see," he said gesturing with his head to the living room.

"Ah, yes. Just last week, poor dears. A sad story, that one." Molly's face was withdrawn for a moment, reflective. She smiled kindly at Cas, studying his face. "You look like you could use a friend, and a piece of coffee cake."

"I'll gladly take the cake, but you're already way past friend, Molls, you know that." Cas winked.

"You big old flirt." Molly slapped her hand at him. She sliced a generous piece of cake and slid the plate onto the bar, waving him to a stool. She sat across him with her own much smaller slice, eyes twinkling. "So, do you have any beaus in Sioux Falls?"

Cas coughed then took a gulp of coffee. "Jesus, Molly."

"That's a yes," she said coyly. "Tell me all about him. What's his name."

Cas chuckled. "I swear, woman. You should work for the CIA."

Molly shrugged. "I'm just good at reading people." She took another bite. "Well, go on. Tell me."

Cas studied the brown sugar and cinnamon topping sliding off the side of the moist yellow cake. "His name is Dean." He swallowed, hard, and began to talk.

It was a lot easier than he would have imagined. Molly was a good listener, and he hadn't been lying when he had said she was a good friend; perhaps theirs was an unconventional relationship, true. But Cas had needed her support over the past few months and Molly had generously provided it.

Molly wiped down the bar top while Cas rinsed their plates in the sink. She handed him a towel and watched him carefully while he dried his hands.

"How is she," he asked, studying the soft white terrycloth.

"She's probably ready to get up from her nap," Molly said gently. "Why don't you go check on her?"

Cas carefully folded the towel into a neat rectangle and placed it over the edge of the porcelain sink. Molly didn't follow him when he left the room; he had visited enough that he could find the nursery on his own. He pushed open the cracked door and stepped into the yellow room. There were clouds painted on the ceiling, and a cheery patchwork throw hung over the arm of a rocker. But his eyes were trained on the white slats of the bed in the corner, and a tiny bottom sticking up in the air, chubby, pink-clad legs tucked under her tummy. Her face was turned away, facing the wall.

He stood over the crib and watched her little back rise and fall, listening to her breathe. She sounded a little congested, and he frowned. One pudgy fist rubbed at her nose and she sighed, turning her head toward him. Big, dark eyes blinked a few times, unfocused. Cas laid a hand on her diapered bottom, patting it gently.

"Hi Dani," he whispered. "How's my girl?"

...


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: **__That real work thing is for the birds. Who invented that? It's taking up all my fic writing time. I would like to stage a protest. Who's with me? Meanwhile...Dean is adorable. And Cas approves._

...

The baby rubbed her nose again before planting a tiny palm against the mattress and rolling onto her hip, negotiating her way into a sitting position.

Cas grinned. Since when could she sit up?

She blinked at him a few more times, a rapid fluttering of long dark lashes against her sleep-flushed cheeks. They were still studying each other when Molly poked her head around the doorway.

"Everything good?"

Cas looked back at her, mock accusingly. "She can sit by herself? When did that happen?"

Dani weaved unsteadily and toppled over. Cas laughed. "Ok, so she's still in training apparently. That makes me feel better." He reached over the railings and gingerly picked the baby up. She rubbed her face back and forth across his chest when he nuzzled her close, still chasing away the remnants of her nap.

"Things change rapidly with a baby," Molly said kindly. "You would be amazed."

"Mmm," Cas nuzzled the crazy tufts of brown hair that were sticking straight up on the baby's head. He followed Molly from the room, smiling when Dani reached up with one small hand and batted at his cheek. She wiggled in his arms as they neared the kitchen, whining slightly.

"She's hungry," Molly smiled. "That girl eats like a horse."

"She's growing," Cas defended, laughing when Dani's fist hit him in the eye. "Hey, I'm on your side."

Molly pulled the high chair from the corner and rolled it into place next to the kitchen table before retrieving the baby's lunch, two small glass jars from the cabinet: pureed carrots and applesauce. She stepped aside so Cas could work, taking their mugs to the coffee pot and refilling them.

Cas could have put Dani in the chair, moved the whole thing along a bit faster, but he enjoyed the serious expression on the baby's face as she watched him, squirming excitedly when he popped the tops off of the jars and began to spoon some of each into the small divided bowl Molly had provided. He kissed her soft cheek as he carried the bowl and baby to the high chair.

Dani's fists banged the tray when it slid into place, then rubbed her palms flat against the top enthusiastically. She was babbling now, little baby coos and noises, drawing another surprised smile from Cas' lips.

"She's a chatterbox."

Molly nodded, wiping down the counter and sighing tiredly. One day she would be considered unfit to take in the sweet babies and toddlers who had lost their family due to tragedy or idiocy (usually the latter). Defenseless babes like Dani and the boys she had just tucked in for a nap, innocent and sweet, children who should still believe in fairy dust but who often knew truths even adults had trouble comprehending. Molly hated to think what she would do with herself when the state decided she was too old. _Probably go batshit crazy,_ she mused, smiling and shaking off the melancholy. Castiel wouldn't stay long, if tradition held, and she wanted to enjoy his visit.

The man in question was spooning a small bite of carrot into the baby's mouth, laughing at her grimace and shudder when she spat it back out.

"I don't think my girl likes carrots."

"They're new this week," Molly replied calmly. "Keep trying. They never like the new stuff."

Molly watched him carefully, sipping her coffee from her perch across the table.

"You're very good with her, Cas."

"Molly," Cas warned, not taking his eyes from the baby.

"I'm just saying. You're running out of time."

Cas sighed, switching to applesauce and grinning when Dani's face changed into one of happy delight at the first spoonful on her tongue.

"There's a couple in the interview process," Molly continued. "I don't think it will take long. Brittany has already signed all of the paperwork relinquishing her maternal rights."

Cas shook his head once, gut coiling in anger. "Who the fuck abandons a baby?"

Molly ignored the expletive; Dani was several months from picking it up yet, and besides: she agreed.

"Who the fuck indeed," she murmured, causing Cas to snort in amusement at the vulgarity falling from her matronly mouth. "Anyway, I've been thinking—"

"Molls, stop." Cas chased a stray drop of applesauce from Dani's chin, then caught her fist before she plopped it smack in the middle of the bowl on the tray, averting a pureed veggie and fruit disaster. "I don't understand why Brittany's folks can't take her. I thought they wanted her."

_Who wouldn't,_ he wondered. The baby's dark eyes were sparkling merrily now, her chubby cheeks rosy, and she grinned a gummy smile at Cas with regularity, two pearly nubs poking out of her lower gum.

"Hey, she has teeth," he exclaimed, fighting sadness. Things _did_ change fast with a baby.

"Last week," Molly murmured, toying with the handle of her cup. "You've been gone a while."

Cas sighed and used an empty spot in the bowl to mix a bit of carrot and applesauce together. Dani's face was hesitant as she mushed the concoction around in her mouth, but then she smiled in approval, slapping down her palm as if to say, _give me some more_.

"Tricked you," Cas whispered, winking at her, not caring she had no idea what he was saying and wouldn't understand the gesture. Lord, she was adorable. And he was in trouble; the only other person in the world who had ever made his chest this tight with emotion was Dean.

"Brittany's mother has cancer," Molly said quietly.

Cas paused, vinyl-tipped spoon frozen in midair. "I didn't know."

"They didn't either. It's bad. She had a large section of her large intestine removed about a month ago. I don't think her prognosis is very good."

He pushed the bite between Dani's rosebud lips. "So that's that," he murmured.

Molly shrugged. "That's that." She hesitated and then decided, _what the hell._ "They asked about you when they came to visit last week. They'd like for you to take her."

Cas looked up in shock. "Me? Why would they want _me_? I'm the entire reason Dani's in this mess to begin with."

"Cas," Molly shushed him. "You are _not_ the reason. Did you make that boy do something so foolishly reckless that he lost not only his life but the lives of three other good men?"

Cas flinched.

"Let me answer for you," Molly said, a bit of sass in her voice. "No. Furthermore, I don't think Brittany DeLuca _ever_ planned on sticking around for the joys of motherhood. The way her mama tells it, that girl's foot was halfway out the door before Danny died. She saw it as her ticket to freedom."

"I'm a twenty-four on and off twenty-four firefighter, Molly. And let's not forget the whole '_I'm gay'_ personality quirk." He nodded his head sardonically. "I'm sure _that_ would go over with bells and whistles in family court on adoption day."

"You have Dean now," she pointed out hopefully. She ignored the gay entirely.

Cas snorted. "Dean had never dated a man before four weeks ago. Do you really think he's going to go from super heterosexual stud to gay-married with a baby in one month or less?" Cas frowned, thinking of something else, something that tempered the excited, happy fluttering of his heart at Molly's words. "His boss would shit a brick."

"His boss can go take a flying fuck," Molly said, dismissively waving her hand in the air.

"Molly," Cas choked on a laugh.

"Time's running out," Molly repeated softly. "Something about you two," she stopped and had to swipe at her eye, turning from the sight the pair made. Both dark, one with eyes a twinkly blue and the other the color of really good dark chocolate, they were beautiful separately, but together they lit up a room. Molly had been a foster mom for nearly thirty years and never before had she seen two souls more perfectly matched. She started when a warm hand grasped her forearm. She turned back, swallowing her tears and giving him a watery grin. "Sorry. I must need to dust. It's kicking up something awful in here."

Cas smiled, heart aching. "You make me think things, I," he struggled with the words. "You make me want things I never thought I could have. That I shouldn't deserve." He pointed the spoon at her when she opened her mouth to protest. "I'll think about it." He didn't know where the words came from; that's not what he had meant to say at all.

Molly's face glowed in surprised relief. "Okay. But don't take too long. I think Brittany's folks would appreciate having their mind set to ease in regards to this little angel." She stood to refill her coffee cup again. She'd never sleep tonight, but life was too short to worry about _every_ vice. This was one she could live with. "And we still have the Cunningham's to worry about too. They're a nice couple. They're just not Dani's parents."

She gave Cas a pointed look before she left the kitchen to check on the boys. And to give the pair at the table some alone time. She fervently hoped Dani poured on that sweet baby charm she had in spades; there were some things that were meant to be.

...

"So, it's Halloween." Sam was flipping through a patient chart. He was sitting in the doctor's lounge in the middle of dictating his rounds. He passed the cell phone to his other ear and relaxed back in the leather chair. He deserved a little break.

"Don't remind me," Gabe groaned. It was barely ten a.m. and he was already about to tear his hair from his scalp. Half of his kids had come to school dressed in their costumes, while the other half had brought them shoved in backpacks and plastic department store bags. How the _hell_ he was supposed to get ten kids redressed and ready for their party after lunch without losing one or throttling five was beyond him.

"You're on your planning period, right?" Sam frowned. He rarely called during school hours, but they hadn't seen each other in days. Such was the social life of a doctor in residency: he had none.

"Yeah," Gabe sighed. "I'm just high on sugar and caffeine."

Sam chuckled. "Already partaking of the Halloween candy?"

"And cupcakes _and_ cookies _and _espresso."

"What have I told you about that espresso machine," Sam murmured, low.

"That it would increase my sex drive?" Gabe grinned. He liked how Sam's voice got all sexy and sweet when he was flirting with him over the phone. (Was he flirting?)

Sam snorted. "No, jackass, that it would make you jittery as hell. Don't be using any sharp implements, you're liable to impale something."

"Pshh," Gabe scoffed. "I'm steady as a rock." He knocked his cup over and the remnants of the dark liquid in the bottom spilled across his lesson plan book. _"Shit!"_

"Steady as a rock, huh," Sam said drily. "_Anyway. _I wondered if you might be free for trick or treating this evening. My house?"

Gabe chuckled. "And here I thought my charm was going to finally elicit an actual date invitation out of you."

"It's a date," Sam protested. "It's totally a date. I just really like passing out the candy," he grumbled.

"Okay, that should not be as cute as it is," Gabe groaned. "Fuck you, Dr. Winchester for distracting me from my terrifically bad mood."

Sam smiled broadly, toying with his pen. "And that concludes this session. Please schedule your next appointment with my secretary."

"Yeah, yeah," Gabe muttered. "Bill me."

"So tonight? Six?"

"Make it five-fifteen. I'd like to pretend makeout on the couch so Dean has to uncomfortably hide in his bedroom."

Sam chuckled. "Deal." He paused before continuing, voice husky. "And none of that pretend bullshit either. You sound like you're coming down with something. I definitely think the doctor should take a closer look. "

Gabe pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it, licking his lips. "Is the uh, _doctor_ going to be in his sexy surgeon outfit?" He rolled his eyes heavenward. _Oh please, please please say yes._

"Why, I believe he will," Sam murmured. "For the children of course."

"Of course," Gabe agreed, grinning. _Now where had he put that old cowboy hat? _He had a dress up date with a doctor.

...

Cas stopped in the office and picked up a visitor's pass, winking at the secretary, Judith, who tittered and passed him a hobnail glass candy dish. He took a peppermint and waved before ambling down the hall. He had just gotten in from the airport, and the first (the only?) person he wanted to see was Dean.

The place was mass chaos. There were happy party noises emerging from every classroom, and a line of ghosts, witches, superheroes and princesses at the water fountain. He squeezed behind them and turned down the kindergarten hall.

The object of his mission was striding down the hall toward him, a fairy under one arm and a squirming Batman under the other. A trail of assorted other characters were lined up behind him.

Dean's face lit up in surprise. "You're back." He passed Cas the fairy. "Here, have a fairy. Free of charge."

Cas caught the little girl on instinct, her sweet face studying him with a serious expression. "Hi," he said to her, cradling her on his hip. One of her wings was bent out of shape and poked from her back at an odd angle. It gave her a rakish, devil-may-care air.

"You're the fireman who fixed Charlie," she said and quickly popped a thumb between her lips, as though she hadn't meant to say anything at all.

"Em," Dean said, reaching forward and gently pulling her thumb free. His forearm brushed Cas' chest and he noted the way Cas leaned into him, eyes hot on his face.

"Em," Cas murmured. "Is that short for Emily?" Dean cocked his head as if to ask _are you good? _before gesturing to the double doors to the playground and continuing down the hall.

"No, silly," Em said, laughing like Cas was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. "It's my letter. Em."

"Oh," Cas nodded seriously, as if that made all the sense in the world. "What's my letter?"

Mary Margaret studied him thoughtfully. "K."

Cas grinned. "I like K. It has a bunch of legs. So I can probably run really fast."

Dean was holding the door open, Cas and Mary Margaret now bringing up the rear of the line, their conversation having slowed their progress down the hall. Dean took Em from Cas' arms and set her on the steps. "Twenty minutes, you little hoodlums," he called. Not that any of them were listening. They were a blur of colorful polyester and tulle. "Run off some of that sugar," he muttered before turning to Cas. "And you," he accused.

Cas raised an eyebrow. "What about me?"

"What do you think you're doing showing up unannounced and smelling all good and looking like you haven't been kissed in four days."

Cas leaned closer, mindful of their location. To a passerby, they would look like two friends, chatting. But Dean would see the way Cas' eyes lingered on his skin, his mouth. At least he hoped Dean hadn't lost his knack at reading his intentions. "That's because I _haven't_ been kissed by anyone in four days. Unless you count the TSA agent who patted me down in the Denver airport. She was pretty aggressive."

"She patted down your mouth?" Dean's lips were pursed, his brow wrinkling in annoyance and Cas grinned. _Way too easy._

"Yeah," he said sadly. "Said she had to leave no cavity untouched." He shrugged. "She was very cute. Young. Blonde. Stacked. Assortment of interesting _tools," _he wagged his eyebrows, "on her belt."

"You're an asshole," Dean said under his breath. He brushed the back of his hand along Cas' jaw. "And I love you."

He froze. _Shit._ He hadn't meant to say that.

Cas, to his credit, didn't so much as bat an eye. "A fake TSA agent? That's all it took?"

"Shut up," Dean muttered, exhaling a relieved breath. His skin was trembling and his knees were weak. The magnitude of the moment was sinking in.

Cas tilted his head. "You okay there, Mr. Winchester? You look a little green."

"Cas," Dean warned; his cheeks were hot and he was dizzy.

"If you want to pass out, please. Feel free. I could do mouth-to-mouth. Although I warn you, I'm at least four days rusty." He winked, enjoying Dean's flustered, nervous movements. How he could be even _more_ adorable flushed and embarrassed, was beyond Cas, but he was. His freckles stood out on his pink cheeks, and his green eyes were desperately trying to avoid Cas' gaze.

Three little words that turned a drunken one-night stand on its head.

Cas wondered if what he needed to tell Dean would change everything back again.

Dean pointed at the tube slide. "I'm just going to go over there and crawl into that big plastic tube for a while and die."

He started to walk down the steps and Cas laughed, grabbing his arm and squeezing it, halting his progress. "Oh no you don't, Winchester. You don't get to make grand declarations and then hide. That's not how it works."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh yeah? How does it work then?" His tone was teasing, but he was seriously interested in the answer; Dean had never told anyone outside of Sammy that he loved them.

"Well, first you have to buy me flowers. And take me out to dinner." He held up a finger when Dean opened his mouth to speak. "_With _silverware and real plates."

Dean snorted. "One word equates real plates? I wish someone had told me that before."

"_Three_ words. And are you taking it back?"

Dean had been biting his bottom lip and he released it, smiling softly. "No."

Cas brushed his fingers across the back of Dean's hand, so close to his thigh. "Good."

They were silent as they watched the little ones run off the short burst of energy provided by too many sweets.

"I had it all planned, you know," Dean said quietly.

"What?" Cas watched him carefully.

"I was going to cook for you," he smiled. "_Really_ cook, not order takeout or fry a hamburger."

Cas inched closer. _Now_ they were possibly too close for _casual friends talking about casual things. _But he didn't care.

Dean continued, walking down the steps and across the playground, pausing so Cas could catch up. "And then I was going to take you to bed. But not in the heat of the moment," he said hurriedly, brows furrowing. "I didn't want you to confuse the sincerity of the words with happy orgasm face."

Cas snorted lightly. "I _like_ happy orgasm face."

"I know you do," Dean smiled. "I do too. But I wanted to say it _before_ you touched me and made me forget everything else," his eyes finally meeting Cas'. "Because that's what you do, since that first night. You touch me and the rest of the world falls away."

Cas' breath caught in his throat. "How the fuck can you be so good at this," he whispered.

Dean chuckled. "I'm not. I'm sucking it up right and left, you just don't know any better."

Cas bumped against him as they walked, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. "I'm glad. Because I think you're perfect."

Dean did squeeze his fingers then, a brief, light touch. "I love you, Cas. I'm not sorry I said it. I'm just sorry I said it for the first time on a playground with a bunch of ghosts and goblins at your feet." The words came out easy the second time too and Dean began to relax. Maybe it was going to be okay. It was a heady thought; nothing in Dean's life ever went _okay_.

They circled the playground, having to disentangle one set of princess skirts from a twisted swing, and rescue one tiny Spiderman from the tall slide, where the webbed one had froze, bravado abandoning him at the peak of the sloped plastic toy.

"You can say it as often as you want," Cas murmured as they turned a corner by the bus gate, still walking the perimeter.

Dean almost missed the words, the excited cries of the second graders as they were released for their recess filling the air. "You're not going to hightail it to the nearest TSA station for a quick reaffirmation of your eligibility?" He was only half joking.

Cas shook his head, eyes serious. "I'm most decidedly ineligible."

"Off the market, huh," Dean teased, wishing like hell he could pull Cas behind the building and kiss him senseless. His eyes were ridiculously blue in the afternoon sunlight and Dean had missed his mouth and his hands too much to wait much longer.

"Yes, and before you get all smug Mr. Winchester," he warned, voice dipping into gravel territory. "You're off the market too. Permanently."

Dean's heart thrilled in his chest. It wasn't _I love you,_ but maybe Cas _had_ been saying it, in actions if not in words. Dean was willing to wait for the vocalization if it meant Cas would keep looking at him with that possessive glint in his eye.

"I'll have to let all my other boyfriends know I guess. Is it more proper to send a card in that instance or will email do?"

"Smartass," Cas muttered. "You're not allowed to contact _any_ boyfriends, period. But you can tell that brunette down the hall from you that if she doesn't stop eyeballing your ass every time you walk by, she and I are going to have words."

Dean snorted. "Lisa? She's harmless." But he puffed up a little; jealous Cas was sex personified.

"She wants you, and I'm advising you to make it clear: _she can't have you_." Cas was practically growling now, and Dean laughed, wishing even harder they were alone.

"We seriously need to change the subject or I'm going to have to go put my painting apron on to hide the evidence."

Cas' eyes flicked to his crotch and back to his face. "_That's_ mine."

"As if there were any doubt at this point," Dean said drily. He tugged on Cas' bicep. "Come on Rambo, I see your brother. No one can cool off my hard-on's faster."

Cas frowned.

"That came out wrong," Dean hurried to say, chuckling. "I meant Gabe's _not _attractive to me and I have never wanted his body."

"Gee thanks, Winchester," Gabe deadpanned. "I love how all the beautiful people of the world band together to make the rest of us feel inferior. Bullies."

"Except my brother," Dean pointed out.

"That's still an insult, jerkwad," Gabe said, rolling his eyes. But there was a hint of a grin at the corner of his mouth. Sam Winchester was most definitely one of the beautiful people. If he ever got the chance to actually get his hands on some of that, he might never resurface again.

"Dean loves me," Cas offered nonchalantly.

"No shit," Gabe said.

Dean's eyes widened. "I _just_ said it. How can you have known. _I_ didn't even know for sure until it came out."

"Okay, you're knocking the shine off the moment just a little," Cas grinned.

Gabe scoffed. "Seriously? The two of you are so disgustingly in love half the town of Sioux Falls is holding their breath waiting to see where you register so they can buy you teapots and bath towels."

Dean flushed, grumbling under his breath. "We're more discreet than that."

"Totally," Cas agreed, nodding his head.

"Bullshit," Gabe said in amusement. "Dean here about has a nervous breakdown if you so much as go out to rescue a cat stuck in a tree."

"I do not," Dean protested hotly.

Gabe ignored him. "And my gorgeous baby brother here, if his eyes were any hotter when someone else so much as _looks_ at you twice, the poor souls would spontaneously combust." He shook his head, waving them both off. "You're hopeless. Both of you. Now go away before I puke from proximity to your sweetness." He made a fake gagging motion with his finger in his mouth.

Dean looked at Cas in amusement. "Spontaneous combustion, huh?"

Cas shrugged. "People should stop looking at you."

Dean grinned. "I'm kind of in love with that. It's hot."

"Oh God," Gabe groaned.

Cas leaned into Dean's personal space. "The way you're kinda in love with me," he growled under his breath.

"Jesus fuck, would you two go find the janitor's closet or something?"

"_Exactly_ the way I'm in love with you," Dean smiled softly. "God I want to kiss you right now."

"Okay that's enough!" Gabe shouted.

Cas and Dean both blinked.

"You get your kindergartners and you get the _hell_ back in your room, Winchester," Gabe hissed. "And you," he grabbed Cas' arm. "You stay with me and let Dean's pulse rate slow before he has a stroke." When Dean didn't move he frowned. "Now, go."

Dean laughed. "Okay, okay." He smiled at Cas. "Come to my room in about thirty minutes?"

"No touching," Gabe interceded before the two could lean close again. "I'm cutting you off." He sighed heavily. "I didn't sign on for this."

Dean ignored him and squeezed Cas' bicep before stepping away to blow his whistle, signaling the end of recess for his little ones.

...


	9. Chapter 9

Dean returned from handing off his tired, bedraggled group of five year olds to the bus and parent line to find a very pretty firefighter leaning against the wall outside his classroom door.

"Hey there, handsome. Lost?"

Cas smiled slowly. "Found."

Dean unlocked the door and yanked Cas through it, slamming it behind them. Cas laughed.

"Easy there, teach. You seem a little over stimulated. Too much sugar?"

Dean pushed him into the wall beside the door. _Finally._ "What I am is a little desperate," he complained. "Damn parties that last forever." Now that he had Cas where he wanted him (namely pinned under his hips) his skin began to twitch, cravings intensified. He hovered over Cas' mouth, prolonging what he wanted most, enjoying the torture.

"Dean," Cas grunted when Dean pushed into him harder. "Are you going to kiss me or breathe me to death."

Dean chuckled, moist air fanning over Cas' face. He smiled wickedly when Cas squirmed, hands pulling at his waist. "Hold your horses," he said. "I want to look at you, I haven't seen you in days."

Cas dipped his fingers under Dean's t-shirt. He liked the way his breath stuttered when he touched the warm skin of his back. "I don't look any different." He leaned forward, trying to catch his lips, grumbling when Dean pulled his head back just before they connected. "I don't taste any different either, jackass. Now_ kiss me."_

Dean obliged, brushing his lips over Cas' softly.

"That's not—" Cas began, before moaning in relief when Dean plunged his tongue in deep, sealing their lips together.

Dean took his time, relearning the contours of Cas' mouth, the slip of his tongue, as it playfully touched his own before darting away. Cas' hands had found their way to Dean's hair, carding through the fine gold strands and holding him in place, like he was afraid Dean was going to pull away before he was finished.

It was unnecessary; Dean had no plans to go anywhere, not for a while.

When they broke apart, both were panting lightly.

"Mr. Winchester," Cas breathed. "You're my favorite teacher."

Dean smiled, sexy and warm. "If I graded on a curve, you'd be top of the class."

"Does that mean I have room for improvement?"

"Mm hmm," Dean murmured, kissing him again. "We should probably schedule daily practice sessions." He mouthed Cas' jaw, lips tingling when he dragged them across the sharp afternoon stubble. "I know an excellent tutor."

"Mmm," Cas tilted his head back so Dean could suck along the contours of his neck. "Does he take credit cards? I'm fresh out of cash."

Dean bit at the skin, pressing a kiss into the hollow of his throat, breathing deep the familiar, musky scent. "He takes multiple forms of payment, some of them very creative."

He released Cas reluctantly, one more soft kiss to his mouth before stepping back. "He's free for dinner, if you'd like to discuss terms."

"I can do that," Cas said, coming off the wall to follow as Dean pulled away. "Where are you going." He reached for Dean's waist again.

Dean chuckled, dodging his hands. "I have to clean up this mess or we're going to be here all night."

Cas caught him by the hips and brought them together below the waist. "I missed this," he murmured, this time taking his own stock of the sensitive places on Dean's neck.

"Cas," Dean sighed, relaxing against him. He really _did_ need to clean the room, but it was hard to concentrate when his skin was buzzing with need and butterflies were tumbling over each other in his stomach.

"Shhh," Cas whispered, lips brushing Dean's ear. "I'm practicing."

Dean groaned when he sucked an earlobe between his teeth. "A, baby. That's a solid A."

Cas huffed a laugh against his skin, the exhale feathering Dean's hair. "That was fast."

"You're a quick learner." Dean took a huge step backward. He pointed. "Now stop touching me."

"I want you."

"_Cas._"

Cas raised one eyebrow. "Naked."

"Oh my God," Dean moaned at the sex voice _and_ the eyebrow. It wasn't fair to use them both at the same time, not after four days. "You're killing me." He rounded the seating area, putting a tiny table and chairs between them.

Cas advanced slowly, stalking him. "Take off your shirt, Dean."

Dean laughed, breathless. "_Castiel Novak_."

"Mmm, full name," Cas murmured, trying to cut Dean off when he attempted to escape to his desk. "I must have been_ very_ naughty. Shirt. Now."

"I'm not taking my shirt off, you horny fuck."

"I haven't seen you in four days. It's way past need now, Dean." He zigged when Dean zagged, closing the distance. "It's imperative that I see your naked chest, your abs, the way your hips cut into the muscles below your waist and dip to—"

_"_Cas!"

"Dean."

Dean bit his lip and glanced at the door. It locked automatically, and he was out of view of the narrow transom window. "Okay, but you stay over there. Don't touch me."

Cas' eyes darkened and Dean thought he could see his nostrils flare.

He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly pulled it over his head. He shivered, not from the cool air as it brushed over his skin, but from Cas' eyes as they devoured him.

"Better," Dean asked, voice a little strangled.

Cas nodded curtly, once. He took a step toward him.

"No."

Cas frowned. "Ass."

Dean started to put the tee back on and Cas growled.

"No."

Dean chuckled, shifting uncomfortably, enjoying his vantage point as much as Cas. _Christ, he's beautiful._ And he was, all deep blue eyes and tousled hair, and reddened lips where Dean had kissed him thoroughly.

"Okay, but you stay three feet away at all times." He tossed his tee to one of the empty tables, feeling a little silly and a lot aroused.

"I'm not making any promises," Cas said coolly, leaning back against a bookshelf, making himself comfortable. "Carry on."

Dean rubbed a palm across his mouth. "You are going to be the death of me," he exhaled. Then he laughed and began to pick up the empty plates and crumpled napkins.

Cas watched him for several minutes before he began to pace the room again.

"You're making me nervous," Dean complained; he felt flushed, hot, because _damn,_ it was sexy to be objectified.

Cas smirked as he picked up a bottle of black tempera paint from a shelf. "Would you mind rubbing some of this around on your knuckles, maybe a smudge or two on your cheek?"

"You want me to rub paint on my face," Dean said with a wry grin. He cocked his head. "Are you sure you've had enough to eat today?"

Cas tried to cut a shortcut around one of the small tables, but Dean deftly sidestepped him. "I _am_ rather hungry," he said with a glint in his eye. "Fake the grease monkey for me, baby?" He wiggled the bottle of paint. He began to twist off the cap.

Dean pointed at him. "Stop right there."

Cas grinned. "No."

Dean tried once more to make it behind his desk and failed; he was laughing too hard and his pursuer was too nimble. Cas pinned him with one arm around his waist, but couldn't open the paint.

"You want to help me out here, teacher," Cas huffed, chuckling against the back of Dean's head.

Dean tried to pry Cas' hand from the bottle, shivering when Cas cheated and dropped a hot, sucking kiss to the back of his neck. "That's it, that's the last time I let you go out of town alone."

"Let me, huh," Cas murmured, releasing the paint into Dean's hand, finding something much more interesting to grab.

"Aw, fuck," Dean chuckled, realizing he'd been played. One of Cas' palms was splayed low across his stomach, sliding into the waistband of his jeans while the other roamed casually across his chest. Cas seemed content to tuck himself against Dean's back, kissing his neck and shoulders languidly.

"Is there a," he bit the soft skin of his back. "Problem, Mr. Winchester?" He nuzzled the hair behind Dean's ears.

"Yeah, I have an unruly student, who refuses to follow directions," Dean panted. He used the lull when Cas lifted his head to flip around in his arms so that they were facing.

Cas grinned, surprised. "Hi."

Dean bit his lip, trying to hold his stern expression. "Don't '_hi'_ me, mister. I'm trying to take control of the situation before it goes ass up."

Cas' hands dropped to Dean's butt and pulled him flush against his hips. "Mmm, I think I'd _like_ you ass up. And might I say," he leaned forward to kiss him. "You are doing a fabulous job with your classroom management."

Dean kissed him back gently. He could feel Cas' hardness against his own and he exhaled a shaky sigh. "Fuck, I missed you."

"Mmm." Cas kissed his cheek, smacking loudly when he pulled away. "I missed you too. Now let's get out of here and get horizontal." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Dean twisted free. "Then stop distracting me with your naked painting fantasy and hold the trash bag for me."

Cas blinked. "Fuck me."

"What?" Dean laughed at the expression on his face.

"Now I have a naked painting fantasy."

Dean snorted. "Don't we all?" He retrieved the stack of plates he had set on a table when he had feigned escape.

Cas caught the trash bag Dean tossed to him and jabbed his index finger. "We're taking that paint home with us, Dean."

Dean grinned. "Sure thing, Picasso. Remind me to tell Sammy to park in the street so we can use the garage," he teased.

"You think I'm joking," Cas grumbled under his breath, but he held open the trash bag dutifully and let Dean toss the paper goods inside. He leaned forward. "Kiss me."

Dean rolled his eyes but obliged. He turned and reached for the next pile of trash. "This is going to take a while if you stop me after every load."

"Not as long as it will take if I throw you to the floor and blow you before I let you finish."

Dean flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're impossible."

"I'm horny."

"I noticed," Dean said drily, grinning. "Can I at least put my shirt back on? You're only making it harder on yourself."

"No," Cas said sternly. "You just pick up the trash." He waved Dean to the next table. "And wiggle your ass when you bend over."

Dean chuckled. _He gave up._ Not that it was a huge hardship; he kind of loved disgruntled, horny Cas.

He still wasn't letting him out of his sight for an extended period again.

Maybe ever.

They had just about finished wiping down the tables (Cas having declared it was either give in and help Dean _finish the fuck up,_ or explode in his pants), when there was a sharp rap at the door.

Dean frantically grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, missing the armhole on the first two tries and hissing at Cas when he laughed.

"You're not helping."

"_God,_ I love the view though."

"Shut up," Dean grumbled, pulling open the door as he smoothed a hand over his hair. _Lord._ There was no telling what kind of shape his hair was in. Cas had had his hands in it at least four different times. Dean just hoped he didn't have to turn his back on his visitor; he was pretty sure he was sporting a new hickey on the back of his neck.

"Mr. Winchester," Uriel said, eyes narrowing suspiciously when they fell on Cas. "Why was your door closed?"

"So we could have hot sex without disturbing the janitorial staff," Cas quipped.

"Cas," Dean murmured, holding up a hand to silence him. Cas rolled his eyes and continued wiping down the last table.

Uriel frowned. "Can I speak with you privately, Dean?"

Dean sighed. _Fuck._ "Be right back," he said to Cas, not meeting his eyes. With Uriel, he had been skating around the issue of his relationship with Cas since the picnic. So far it had seemed like the principal was willing to turn a blind eye to it; not that he had much choice. The Sioux Falls School District employee handbook stated that they did not discriminate for a variety of reasons, but sexual orientation was definitely one of them.

That didn't mean Uriel and others couldn't make Dean's life and teaching career hell if they wanted to.

Once they were a safe distance from Dean's classroom, Uriel didn't mince words. "I've had two requests from parents who would like to remove their child from your classroom."

Dean felt like he'd been punched. "What? Why?" He could hear the hollowness of his voice as it rang down the deserted corridor.

"Because they do not wish to have their child with a teacher whom they feel leads a personal life they find distasteful." Uriel's face might be construed as too smug and Dean's fingers fisted. He would like nothing more than to punch the bastard.

"Who." He held his breath; which of his babies would be leaving? Which parent had entrusted Dean with the thing most precious to them, and then found him lacking? He was reeling, dizzy with a sick knot in his stomach.

"Deric Peterson and Allie Hill."

Dean closed his eyes. Sweet Deric who was sporting a new hole in his mouth where his lower incisor used to be, just the right size to slip a juice box straw through. And Allie, gentle and shy, who loved to color and paint and when given free choice of the centers almost always chose the household center, where she would cradle one of the baby dolls and sing lullabies under her breath.

"When," Dean's voice was rough. He sagged against the wall, jerking when Uriel hesitantly placed a hand on his arm.

"After Christmas," Uriel said more gently. "We will want the transition to be as smooth and easy as possible for the children." He dropped his hand. "I _am_ sorry, Dean. I know you probably think the worst of me right now, but I was afraid that this might happen. No matter how hard we try to procure change, there will always be people who choose hatred and bigotry over common sense and equality."

Dean looked at the man with renewed respect. Maybe he had misjudged him.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely.

Uriel nodded. "Have a good evening. Enjoy your Halloween."

Dean nodded and watched him as he left down the shadowed hall. It was getting late.

Cas was waiting by the door when he returned, expression concerned and angry. "What happened?"

Dean held up a hand at his forceful tone. "I," he swallowed. "I don't want to talk about it just yet."

"Was it me? I'm sorry, Dean," Cas sagged, worried at Dean's dejected look. "I shouldn't have made that comment. I can talk to him."

"No," Dean said. "It wasn't that." He smiled, heart aching as Cas hovered, clearly unsure of whether he was allowed to touch him. Dean's world may have been altered significantly in the past five minutes, but Cas was _always_ allowed to touch him. He held out a hand. "Come here."

Cas went willingly, pulling Dean close, rubbing the tension from his back. "What happened," he whispered again.

"Two of my kids are going to be moved to Lisa's classroom," Dean said on an exhale, holding onto Cas tighter.

Cas stiffened and leaned back. "What? Why? You're practically Anne Sullivan."

Dean grinned, chuckling softly. "Annie Sullivan? Your bias is showing, babe." Dean taught kindergartners the alphabet and colors and simple math facts; Anne had taught Helen Keller how to live.

"My bias is fine," Cas murmured and kissed him gently. "You going to be okay?"

Dean shook his head and disentangled himself from Cas' arms. "No. I'm not." He walked to the trash bag and began to knot it.

Cas watched him, troubled. "Do you still want to have dinner?" He had learned a long time ago about the hateful tendencies of society to pick and choose what bias was allowed to flourish on any given day. He had faced the bigotry of family and close friends, and had seen the oily blackness of hate that destroyed relationships.

He had watched as it cost Baz and Danny their lives.

He couldn't expect Dean to acclimate in one day, or even one month.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, but let me go home first, shower and change. You want to come by about six?"

Cas nodded. "Dean—"

"I just need a few minutes alone, Cas. Okay?"

Dean wouldn't look at him, and it made Cas nervous. "Sure. I'll see you at six." He opened the classroom door to leave.

"I love you," Dean said quietly from the darkened corner of the classroom.

Cas closed his eyes, exhaling in relief. _Thank God._

Dean chuckled softly. "I don't want you thinking any of this changes that. _Nothing_ will change that."

"I know," Cas replied. And he did. But he also knew sometimes love wasn't enough.

...

Cas and Gabe stood in front of the long rack of costumes, jaws slack.

"Jesus, I had no idea there were so many variations of _French maid," _Gabe breathed.

Cas chuckled. "Down boy."

"No, but really," Gabe said, grinning. "Call me crazy, but I'm seeing a valid, and clearly popular, role-playing opportunity here. Can you see Sam in a frilly white apron serving me scotch? Holy _fuck."_

Cas groaned. "Oh God, stop." He would never be able to scrape that visual from his brain.

Gabe grabbed the largest size and tossed it in their cart. "Okay, Mr. Puritan, which, by the way, is pretty comical considering you're _gay as a three-dollar bill,_" he added, voice growing progressively louder. "Your turn."

"Shhh." Cas shushed him, glancing around the busy shop. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "Um, I need Batman."

Gabe's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Uh huh, not so funny when the kink shoe is on the other foot, is it?"

"Shut up," Cas muttered, quickly sliding the hangers down the rack.

"Can I help you gentleman find anything," a cheery voice asked from behind them.

Gabe grinned at the young girl. "My brother here needs a Batman costume. Size thirty-two long."

Cas smiled weakly at her helpful expression, cheeks pink. "Thirty-two regular would work in a pinch," he offered.

"Hmmm," she frowned thoughtfully, tapping her chin with a rather elaborately manicured nail. The bed was bright fluorescent orange, but a finely drawn silver glitter spider web sparkled from the tip. "Oh wait," she exclaimed, eyes lighting up. "We have a special order in the back. The guy backed out after we got it in for him."

"Perfect! We'll take it," Gabe said, slapping Cas on the arm.

Cas flinched under the impact. "How much?"

The girl inclined her head. "It's pricey, being a special order. But I think I can swing a discount since it's pretty useless after tonight anyway."

Cas nodded, more flustered and unsure about this plan by the minute. "Sure, sure. Whatever. I'll take it."

"Awesome!" the girl beamed. "I'll meet you at the register."

Gabe pushed the cart toward Cas. "Here, take over, Bruce. I need to find a pair of chaps."

"Oh _God,_" Cas repeated, scrubbing a hand across his face.

If he survived the night, it would be a miracle.

...

"Where are they," Dean grumbled from his perch on the couch, sneaking another peanut butter cup from the bucket of candy.

"Stop eating. And they're on their way."

"It's _one_ piece, Samuel. And you bought, like, thirty bags."

Sam frowned. "That's your _fourth,_ and I bought," he frowned self-consciously. "Twelve bags."

Dean snorted. "Twelve bags of candy. At how much per bag? I hope you know you have to spend at least that much on my Christmas present. Or it doesn't count."

"I just hope it's enough, what with you _eating all of it."_ Sam looked pointedly at the half-eaten piece in Dean's hand.

Dean popped the whole thing in his mouth cheerfully and grinned, his teeth a chocolatey mess.

Sam groaned. "God. And Cas seems so refined and cultured. How the hell does _that_ happen?"

"Opposites attract, Sammy," Dean said happily. He slid his eyes to Sam, biting his lip to hide a smile. "So, don't you think you should change before Gabe gets here for your date."

Sam flushed. He was dressed in mint green surgical scrubs, a mask hanging loose around his head. "I'm in costume for trick or treating, dumbass."

"No you're not," Dean chuckled. "You're dressed for a kinky session of '_let's play doctor',_ admit it."

"No," Sam grumbled, grabbing a peanut butter cup from the bucket before Dean could snatch it away. "And what about you? You wore that to school today. Is the honeymoon over? You forgoing that whole caring about your appearance thing already?"

Dean smiled smugly, standing. The candy bowl _was_ suspiciously low. He'd better refill it before any trick-or-treaters arrived. "Cas and I are beyond playing dress up games at this point." He winked lasciviously. "We go straight for naked now."

"Oh Lord," Sam mumbled, having walked right into that one. "Spare me, please."

Dean laughed and carried the bowl into the kitchen. He was dumping another bag of chocolate into the bucket when he heard the front door open and Sam's accompanying laugh.

When he rounded the corner from the kitchen his mouth fell open and he had to scramble to keep the bowl of candy from spilling all over the floor.

"Holy shit."

Gabe grinned, cowboy hat tilted at a jaunty angle. "Howdy." He danced a little jig, brown leather chaps flapping.

Dean blinked, ignoring him. His eyes were glued to the tall, darkly handsome superhero beside him, sharply carved pectoral muscles encased in a slick, black, skin-tight fabric. Cas' mouth and chin were the only visible skin. "Holy shit," Dean said again.

Sam chuckled. "Breathe, Dean."

"I feel ridiculous," Cas said, and his rusty tone was even more absurdly sexy when you couldn't see his face. "Can I take this off now?"

"No!" Dean set the candy on the cabinet and shoved Gabe out of the way.

Cas grinned when Dean hesitantly took his hand. "No?"

Dean shook his head frantically, licking his lips. "No, like, never."

Gabe snorted, tearing his eyeballs from his own Halloween present, all wrapped up in easy-care green cotton. "He'll have to pee at some point, Dean. It's nature."

"Okay. To pee, but that's it." He pulled Cas further into the living room, grinning wide. "I don't know what the _fuck_ you were thinking." He leaned forward to brush his lips against Cas' full, pretty mouth. "But god_damn,_ I'm glad you did."

Cas wrapped two black-gloved hands around Dean's waist. "I was thinking you needed a little cheering up," he grinned. Dean's eyes were still wide and maybe a little glazed; he wondered fleetingly if he could call the costume shop and have the girl hold him the Spiderman costume until tomorrow.

"I'm cheered," Dean breathed, running his hands down Batman's chest. "I'm practically a greeting card."

The doorbell sounded.

"Stop fondling the superhero and go get the goods," Gabe waved Dean toward the candy bucket.

"Why do I have to," Dean whined, nuzzling the edge of the mask on Cas' face. He even _smelled_ incredible, like heat and sex and all the parts of Cas that Dean loved best. Dean squirmed; four days was a _long_ time.

"Because you didn't even bother showering," Sam pointed out. "Cas brought you your very own _Batman,_ you douche."

Dean grimaced. "He's right. I didn't shower."

Batman leaned forward, dropping his voice an octave. "I can help with that. It's one of my lesser-known skills."

"Aw, crap," Gabe groaned. "I always forget with them. Jesus fucking Christ." He stalked to the candy bucket and retrieved it, tossing a pithy retort over his shoulder as he made for the door. "You two, separate before you scar the children. They like their superheroes brooding and unattached."

"Not Superman," Dean quipped, ignoring Gabe and pulling Cas tighter.

"Or Spiderman," Cas agreed.

"Or Ironman," Sam offered, hopping up onto the kitchen counter and swinging his surgery bootie-covered feet.

"Smartasses_,_" Gabe muttered under his breath. He opened the door.

"Trick or treat!" A chorus of voices sang through the doorway and Dean reluctantly let Cas go. He loved to see the little ones all dressed up; besides, if he didn't stop touching Cas' costume-enhanced upper body, his hard on was going to pop the zipper in his jeans.

"Howdy, children," Gabe drawled dropping candy into the outstretched buckets and bags.

"Ooh, Batman," they cried when they spotted Cas.

Gabe rolled his eyes. "Figures," he grumbled. His spurs clanged against the foyer tile when he backed away to allow Cas to crowd into the open door.

"Children," Cas intoned, deep and dark.

Dean swooned, glancing over at Sam in delight.

Sam shook his head, grinning.

One little girl gave Cas a cherry lollipop and he barely held back a grin before he thanked her.

"Thank you, Princess. I will cherish it always," he said gravely. He turned from the door with a flourish, his cape flapping behind him dramatically.

The kids cheered and ran from the porch.

Gabe shut the door and leaned against it. "I'm never going to be the popular brother, am I."

Sam hopped off the counter. "You're _my_ favorite," he said with a grin.

Gabe's eyes lit up. "Oh. Well, then, Dr. Winchester. Don't we have a rather important physical scheduled?"

"Okay, gross," Dean complained from under Batman's cape. He shoved Cas off of him. "No playing doctor while I'm in the house."

"No naked painting while _I'm_ in the house," Sam countered.

Dean frowned. "Shit."

Cas scooped him back under the expanse of black polyester. "Leave these peasants to their strangely attired child visitors," he growled.

Dean laughed. "Baby, you're so far gone, I'd be worried if it wasn't such a turn-on."

Cas grinned. "Let's take the impala through all the drive-thru's in town. I want to see their faces when we get to the window."

Dean chuckled. "Deal." He kissed him once more, fondling his butt. Batman, as it turned out, had amazingly firm glutes. "We're going to amuse the citizens of Sioux Falls in the Batmobile," he announced.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You're going to let Batman drive Baby."

"Batman owns me," Dean shrugged. "I surrender all."

"Damn straight." Batman cupped one ass cheek, giving it a firm squeeze and Dean squeaked.

"Bring me a bacon cheeseburger, extra bacon," Gabe called as they crossed the porch, Cas bending to shake the hands of a new batch of awed trick-or-treaters. "And fries! And a cherry Coke!"

Dean waved at him dismissively. He couldn't wait to see Cas in the driver's seat of the impala. _That_ image would serve as fodder for a hundred and one daydreams.

He opened the passenger door and wondered if his old favorite parking spot would be overrun with teenagers tonight; he'd like nothing better than to get a little private one-on-one with Batman in the back seat.

...

Dean laughed as Cas struggled to remove the mask. His hair was wet with sweat when he finally tugged it free. Dean grabbed the fast food bags from the floorboards. "I think the kid at the coffee joint was my favorite. He almost pissed himself."

Cas grinned, tossing the mask in the back seat. "I don't know, the girl at the donut shop was pretty funny too. Good call."

Dean had encouraged Cas to pull through Krispy Crème, thinking _surely_ Batman would equate a free bag of donut holes. When the girl slid open the drive-thru window with wide eyes, Cas had grunted, _Trick or Treat_.

Dean had grinned triumphantly when she insisted on taking Cas' photo with her phone and then passed them a full dozen glazed. On the house.

Dean happily licked his the remaining sugar from his fingertips. "And we still have some left for breakfast."

"You're going to be sick," Cas pointed out, taking the box of donuts from Dean's lap. "Can you manage the rest?"

The porch light was off, signaling the house was out of candy.

"That might be a new record," Dean mused, shuffling the bags to turn the door handle. "It's only eight-thirty."

The living room was dark too though, and he frowned as he switched on the light. "Sam?"

The house was silent.

"Huh," Dean mused, turning to face Cas as he closed the front door. "Maybe they went to Gabe's?"

"Note," Cas nodded to the counter where a folded slip of paper was held down by the edge of the candy bowl.

Dean set the bags on the counter and flipped the paper open, frowning. "Well, crap," he said, passing the note to Cas.

"Gone to hospital, Gabe's sick." Cas read aloud, frowning. "He wouldn't joke, would he?"

Dean shook his head. "Not Sammy, not about that. He took the donut box from Cas' hands. "I guess it's back to the Batmobile, Bruce."

"Damn," Cas grimaced. "I didn't bring a change of clothes."

Dean grinned. "Woohoo!"

"Very funny," Cas said drily, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to need clothes eventually. I have a seven a.m. shift in the morning."

Dean pulled him close, backing him toward the front door. He nibbled at Cas' lips. "You can borrow some of mine. After I sex you up."

"Sex _me_ up," Cas murmured, slipping his tongue between Dean's mouth when it parted on a gasp. "I thought _I_ was doing the sexing tonight. All alpha male and, you know," he winked. "Super."

Dean smacked one more brief kiss to his lips and then shoved him back. "My pants are legitimately the tightest they've ever been. And it's _not_ the candy I've been eating."

Cas straightened, shoulders thrust back. "The forces of good have prevailed once more."

Dean pushed him out the door, locking it behind him. "The forces of good want me to bust a zipper with my overexcited cock?"

"We take weapons where we find them, it's part of what makes our story more human."

Dean snorted, patting his black-clad butt. "Get in the car, Batman. Alfred is going to take you for a little ride."

"Okay," Cas muttered, climbing in the passenger side. "Now we've ventured into creepy territory. You can't be Alfred."

"Well who else am I going to be? Catwoman?" Dean turned the key and the impala's engine revved.

"Robin."

"I'm no sidekick," Dean protested, backing out of the drive. "I'm the main attraction."

Cas raised one eyebrow.

Dean waved his hand in the air. "Second main attraction. Whatever."

"Otherwise known as _sidekick," _Cas leaned over to buckle Dean's seatbelt, nuzzling his neck while he was in proximity.

"Thanks," Dean exhaled, stomach fluttering.

Cas slid back to his side and clicked his own belt into place. "As soon as we get home, we're taking a ridiculously long shower," he mused.

Dean smiled, knowing he would enjoy the anticipation building over the next few hours. "Deal."

"I hope Gabe just ate too much candy."

"Maybe Sammy scared him with his giant—"

"Dean." Cas shook his head once, firmly.

Dean chuckled. "Oh all right. Anyway, Sammy's isn't nearly as extraordinary as _mine_ and you made out all right. Actually," he frowned. "You never seemed all that impressed."

"Eh. Above average."

"I wasn't asking for a rating," Dean grumbled. He was silent for a beat. "Above average? Really? Not even top five?"

Cas grinned. "Oh, it's top two for sure." He reached over and fondled the member in question and Dean's hands jerked on the steering wheel. "It's very pretty."

"Pretty," Dean mumbled. "It does the job, that's what counts." He huffed, worrying his lip.

Cas unhooked his seatbelt and slid across the seat again to kiss the corner of his mouth. "It's the only one I've ever wanted this much," he whispered against Dean's ear. "That's got to count for something."

Dean squirmed. "You just slide back to your side of the car, Batman," he said, mollified. "You can tell it how much you cherish it later, up close and personal."

Cas chuckled returning to his seat. "It's a date."

The hospital emergency room waiting room was a hive of activity.

"Halloween and full moons," Cas muttered when they passed a man with a nailgun impaled on his forearm. "My favorites."

Dean spotted Sam's dark head at the nurse's station. "There's Sam."

Sam smiled in relief when he saw them approaching. "I was afraid you'd be out at the mill, necking half the night."

Dean flushed. Not _half the night;_ only forty minutes or so.

"Gabe?" Cas' expression was worried and Dean shifted closer.

"Appendix," Sam grinned. "He started feeling crappy almost immediately after you left. I, uh," he flushed. "I diagnosed him pretty quickly."

"I'll bet," Dean said with a wry grin.

"Shut up," Sam muttered, punching him in the arm.

"Ow," Dean griped, rubbing the spot.

"How long until they can operate," Cas interceded, pushing a finger against Dean's mouth when it opened in protest.

"Already done," Sam said triumphantly, closing the patient file he was holding. "There was a slot as soon as we got here, so we slid him right in. He's in recovery. Be about thirty minutes and you can see him."

"Nice," Dean murmured. "So there _is_ a perk to dating a doctor."

"Yeah, Dean," Sam joked. "You get bumped to the top of the line when you need organ removal." He made as if to swing again and Dean ducked behind Cas. "It was just good timing. You all want to wait in the first floor waiting room, I'll send someone out to get you when he's ready for visitors."

"Thank you, Sam," Cas said sincerely.

"No problem," Sam grinned. "I guess the outfit is growing on you then? I sort of expected you to change first."

"Oh _shit_," Cas moaned, slapping his forehead with a palm. "I completely forgot."

Sam laughed. "I can get you some scrubs."

"No!" Dean pointed at Sam over Cas' shoulder. "Don't you dare."

Sam slapped Dean's finger aside. "Don't worry, Cas, I got your back." He flashed another quick grin and then hurried back into the ER. Dr. Winchester was apparently back on duty.

...

Gabe was woozy when they were finally allowed in to see him.

"Boysss," he slurred, raising his hand in a sloppy wave.

A young nurse beside his bed was carefully reading his chart. She nodded once to Dean and Cas. "I'll be right back with your pain medication, Mr. Goodwin."

"How do you feel?" Cas grinned down at his brother. "And why didn't you say something was wrong earlier?"

"And misssss my sexy asssss doctor boy," Gabe smacked his lips drunkenly. "Nuh uh. Plus you," he yawned. "You and Romeo had to get with the happy and the ssssex so you could give him the good news."

Cas froze. _Fuck._

"News? What news," Dean leaned over the railing on the opposite side of the bed.

"Oh hi!" Gabe's voice was lilting. "I didn't see you there. Congratulations!"

Dean frowned, chuckling. "Because I got my very own Batman? Thanks Gabe. It's just what I always wanted."

Cas tried desperately to convey to Gabe that he should _shut his fucking mouth_, to no avail.

"No, silly, about the _baby._"

Dean's eyes narrowed and he laughed uneasily. "Those are some good meds there buddy. Maybe you should try and get some sleep." He grinned at Cas and raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Cas," Gabe pouted. "Haven't you told Dean yet? Whusss the matter with you?" He yawned wide, grimacing in pain. "Side, hurts," he whimpered. His eyes popped open and he lunged for Cas' arm, eyes darting between the two. "Tell him, you chickenshit."

"Here you are, Mr. Goodwin, this should help you sleep."

The nurse uncapped the syringe just as Cas jumped back to avoid Gabe's grasp. Her yelp of surprise was not enough warning and Cas winced when he felt the pinch of a needle in his shoulder.

"Cas!" Dean raced around the end of the bed, catching him just as he began to collapse. The nurse helped Dean lower him to the floor.

"I'll get Dr. Winchester," she said.

"Ow," Cas muttered, reaction delayed. He blinked rapidly. Dean's face was strangely fuzzy and his whole body felt warm and tingly. It was nice. "Hey Dean, I need to tell you something. We're having a baby," he grinned before his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Cas? Cas!" Dean shook him, but Cas' head lolled back. He was out.

"It's a girl," Gabe called merrily from his perch on the bed above Dean's head.

Dean slumped to the floor, cradling Cas' head in his lap. What the _fuck_ was going on?

...


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note: **__Bless you dears for being patient! I had a couple of super long work days Mon/Tue and couldn't keep my eyes open to edit this lovely monster of a chapter. The smutty bits hopefully make up for any gnashing of teeth while you waited. _

...

Cas' tried to open his eyes but someone had apparently glued them shut. He would complain but his mouth didn't seem to be working either. He licked his lips, grimacing when his tongue ran tacky and dry across the roof of his mouth. He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly. _I'm blind,_ he panicked, before he felt a warm hand on his arm.

_Oh,_ he thought. _It's just dark. _His tongue darted out again and he tried to speak but nothing emerged except for a rough _hiss_.

"Hey." Dean's blurry face appeared over him. "You're awake."

His voice was amused, and Cas thought that just once he'd really like to smack him. Except maybe Dean could get him a drink of water first. Yes. He tried to lift his heavy arm and point to that pitcher he thought he could make out on the side table.

His index finger merely twitched.

Dean leaned closer, grinning wide. "Still a little woozy?"

Cas frowned. Or at least he thought he did. The edges of his vision were tinged black and he could feel his lids falling closed again. Maybe he would just go back to sleep after all.

"Oh no you don't," Dean laughed softly. He patted Cas' cheek. "Stay with me. How about a drink of ice water?"

Cas pried his eyes open again. _About time._ He tried to nod and his neck muscles more or less obeyed.

Dean poured water from the pitcher into a Styrofoam cup, holding the straw out of the way with his finger. "Here you go," he murmured, bringing the straw to Cas' lips, his other hand caressing his cheek.

Cas sucked in and the blessedly cool, wet relief of the water slid down his parched throat. "Thanks," he rasped. He sighed, closing his eyes again.

"You still with me?"

He felt Dean's fingers card through his hair. "Yeah," he whispered. "What happened?" His eyes were focusing clearer when he lifted his head this time, so he thought he'd try to sit up. He struggled against the strange gravitational force that seemed intent on holding him prone in the bed until Dean slid an arm behind him, helping him up.

Dean chuckled softly, giving him a squeeze. "You got nailed with a vial of morphine. That's what happened."

His hand trembled when he took the cup from Dean and sucked down another mouthful of water. He glanced around the room, eyes falling on the sleeping figure in the bed next to his. Gabe. He wrinkled his nose. "I kind of remember. The nurse was going to knock him out."

"Uh huh. And Batman's supercharged reflexes saved the day."

"Oh shut up," Cas muttered, mouth quirking up. Yeah, he was remembering now. And awareness brought with it the unfortunate side effect of a dull throbbing ache behind his eyes. "Ugh, I think I'm hungover."

Dean chuckled. "Probably. Sammy said Nurse Ratchet had slightly miscalculated the dosage, so you got quite a hit. You were out for a couple of hours."

Cas downed the rest of the water and tipped the cup against his lips to crunch at a mouthful of ice. The rest of the night was slowly piecing back together for him. He glanced down, frowning; he was still uncomfortably clothed in black polyester spandex. "You couldn't have let them change me into something less chafing?"

Dean grinned. "I might have used a little brotherly blackmail in the negotiation process."

"Douchebag."

Dean leaned close, lips warm against the side of his mouth. "I'm not sorry," he whispered, kissing him softly.

Cas tossed the empty cup to the side and reached for him, pulling on the front of his t-shirt until Dean was forced to follow as he lay back on the pillows. Dean held himself up on an elbow, smiling down at Cas' shadowed face, all handsome angles and shading in the dark room. He really did make an excellent Batman.

"Stop trying to seduce me with your brother in the next bed," he whispered, dropping a kiss to Cas' lips before pushing himself into a sitting position. "You ready to get out of here? You owe me an extra long shower, if I remember right."

Cas yawned and nodded, stretching his arms over his head.

_Oh shit._

His eyes widened as the moment preceding his encounter with the hypodermic flashed before him.

"Ah, so you remember," Dean chuckled, patting his leg.

Cas scrubbed his face. "Oh God." He dropped his hands. "What do you know?"

Dean shook his head. "Nothing. Although Sam and I have ran through every possible scenario." He winked. "Some of them very sci-fi movie of the week."

Cas swore at Gabe under his breath and Dean laughed, squeezing his thigh. "Don't be too hard on him, he was under the influence."

Cas glanced over at Gabe, who was snoring lightly, mouth ajar. _He would deal with that big mouth later._ He searched Dean's face in the dark for any sign of anger or trepidation but found only a fond curiosity staring back. "Can we get out of here first?"

"Yup," Dean declared, standing and offering a hand. "As far as Sioux Falls General is concerned, you're just a visitor who had a little too much fun trick or treating."

"Awesome," Cas said with a grimace. He slid off the bed and stood, swaying when the floor tipped too far to the right.

"Steady there, Bruce." Dean smoothed a palm up his back, teeth flashing in a goofy grin.

"Stop smiling at me like that," Cas grumbled, but he leaned into Dean's hand just the same. It felt good; warm and steady.

"I can't help it," Dean chuckled. "You're adorable."

Cas glanced down at his costume, which, he had to admit, looked none the worse for wear. "This fucker was expensive. Apparently you really do pay for quality."

"Yes you do," Dean agreed with a low murmur, hand dipping low to rest at the base of Cas' spine.

Cas laughed softly. "Glad you approve. At least _something _went right tonight."

"I should really pretend these aren't even here, but Sam made me promise," Dean said reluctantly, reaching behind them for a stack of folded items on the end of the bed. He passed the scrubs to Cas. "I'll wait here while you change back into an average citizen."

"Gee, thanks," Cas said drily. He slowly made his way to the corner private bath. "Be right back, dear."

"See you soon, honeybunch." Dean grinned at Cas' lifted middle finger just as the bathroom door closed behind him.

...

"So are you ready to tell me what's really in Colorado that you had to go deal with?" Dean glanced at his passenger when he paused for a red light. "I'm guessing _old job_ was an euphemism for something?"

Cas' lips pursed as he blew out a breath. He reached across the seat, palm up, needing a connecting point, and Dean gladly fit his hand in his. "I should probably start at the beginning."

"That's generally a good place, yeah." When he didn't continue Dean squeezed his fingers. "I'm not going anywhere." He pressed the gas when the light turned.

"A little over four months ago, I was assigned a rookie, fresh out of training. His name was Danny." Cas began to talk, voice deep and hypnotic in the darkened car. He told Dean about Danny, and Baz and Smoky, and all of the crew he had left behind in Grand Junction.

"So Baz and you were..." Dean's hand tightened infinitesimally on the steering wheel.

"Friends," Cas said. "Mostly." He glanced at Dean. "This will probably make me sound like an ass, but it was just sex, Dean."

"It makes you sound normal." It still stung though, and Dean made a concerted effort to shove it aside.

Cas smiled sadly, shaking his head, appreciating Dean's effort, even if he sucked at hiding his discomfort. He was simply too transparent to Cas now; he would make it up to him later. "I was going to break it off. I got the impression that last day he was going to push, finally, for something more." He watched the streetlights flashing by outside the window before murmuring, "I was never going to be ready for that."

Dean squeezed his hand again, expression wary. "With him? Or anyone?"

Cas watched Dean as he worried that pretty bottom lip between his teeth and waited nervously for an answer. As if he even had to ask. "This is different, Dean."

"Yeah," Dean asked, his face relaxing in relief.

Cas smiled to himself and turned back to the window. "Yeah. It's the person, not the time or place." He inclined his head. "As it turns out."

"What happened, after Danny jumped?"

Cas sighed. He hadn't talked about that day since he left Grand Junction. But it haunted his dreams and hovered at the edge of his mind, waiting for a quiet lull in consciousness so that it could sneak into his thoughts, steal his breath away. "Danny treed up," he said softly. He glanced at Dean again, saw his confused frown and explained. "He missed the jump site and landed in a tree. I don't know how he managed to climb out without removing his chute; maybe he wasn't tangled up. Maybe he fell." He trailed off, lost in thought.

"Baz?" Dean urged him to continue, sensing that it was something Cas needed to talk about, even if he didn't realize or wouldn't admit that yet.

"No, Baz wasn't close enough. By the time he got to him, Danny was already on the ground, behind the wall. The fire had surrounded him." Cas shivered. It was a nightmare: the worst luck, the worst instincts, the worst moment to be a rookie without the hours of experience that might save your life. "Danny couldn't get the pack off, or maybe he just panicked, I don't know. The wind was brutal, fast. It hit the chute and dragged him over a cliff."

"God," Dean breathed, stunned.

"Baz tried to save him," Cas whispered. "I was coming, over the hill and I could see them both, could see and couldn't stop it. I don't know why he went after him, it was useless, hopeless." Cas closed his eyes. "The chute was in shreds, burning. Even I could see that from as far back as I was."

"What happened," Dean asked, voice low.

"The wind shifted again. Baz was too close." Cas shook his head again. "I broke my fucking ankle, first time I've ever missed a landing. I was hobbling down that fucking hill, ankle throbbing, screaming for him to wait. I could see it making the turn."

"Cas," Dean whispered. He pulled on Cas' hand, wanting to draw him close, offer comfort. "That's enough, you don't have to."

Dean slowed, pulling the car into an empty lot, parking under a halo of pale yellow streetlight. He released the button on his seatbelt and urged Cas across the seat and into his arms. Cas went willingly, pressing his face to Dean's neck, lips too hot and dry as Dean rubbed firm circles on his back, holding him close.

"You couldn't have done anything different."

"No?" Cas dropped his forehead to Dean's shoulder. "Two more died that day, trying to get me out. You know what's crazy?" He leaned back so he could see Dean's eyes. "If Danny had waited five more seconds before he bailed, he would have been clear. We all would have been."

"How did you get out?" Dean frowned, still digesting the story. "Which ankle?"

"I had to sit there and wait, pray the wind stayed to the east because I sure as hell couldn't have outrun it if it came for me. I was backed against the cliff at one point, surrounded." Cas grimaced. "And it was the left. Hurts like a bitch when it rains, I can hardly wait for snow."

Dean kissed him gently. "I'll put a hot compress on it, baby you for a change."

Cas smiled against his lips, welcoming the change in subject. "Baby me, huh? Is that what I do?"

"Yes," Dean huffed. "You're always doing these thoughtful little things that make me feel like a horny old bastard because I can't think of anything but your body when you get within five feet. It's a little intimidating to try and live up to..." he paused, scowling. "Well, _you_."

Cas grinned, surprised. "I'm intimidating?"

"Don't look so happy about it," Dean grumbled, pulling him against his chest again. "I was sort of complaining, jackass."

Cas chuckled against his cheek. "Sorry. Please. Continue whining about my amazing body and excellent boyfriend skills."

"Not _whining,_ clarifying my _feelings_. Totally different." Dean gasped when Cas slid cold fingers under the hem of his shirt. "One's legitimate," he managed to say before twisting away. "Your fucking hands are freezing."

"I know," Cas said coyly. "I was trying to warm them up." He nosed into the crook of Dean's shoulder, dragging his tongue along the tightly corded muscle of his throat. "Does this sooth your wounded _feelings_ any," he whispered.

"No," Dean moaned lightly and Cas leaned back, leaving Dean's neck cold and lonely. "Cocktease_,_" he growled. He grabbed Cas' hands in both of his and brought them to his mouth, blowing across the fingers. Cas' eyes widened at the sensation and he blinked. Dean smiled to himself. _Gotcha._ "Now stop licking me for five minutes and tell me how a baby fits into this story."

Cas' hot eyes raked over his face and neck. "That was a prelude, Dean. My tongue will be all over your body before morning," he murmured.

"_Jesus,_" Dean breathed, eyes glazing. "Yes."

"Dani," Cas cleared his throat.

Dean jerked, shaking himself free of the lust-induced fog. _That_ was what he was talking about before. Damn firefighter and his wicked tongue. "Danny's baby?" He began to rub the still-cool fingers between his palms vigorously, trying to remember what Cas had told him about the rookie's young family.

"Danielle," Cas nodded.

Dean laughed self-consciously, curiosity finally making him impatient. "Cas, come on. Spill it. You're killing me here."

Cas smiled weakly. It wasn't that he was afraid of what Dean would say; he was afraid of the choice he may be faced with after hearing Dean's thoughts. He took a deep breath.

"After Danny died, his wife, Brittany, took off. But not before she relinquished all custodial rights. The baby's been in a foster home ever since. That's where I've been, to see her. I've been going back about once a month."

Dean frowned. "She doesn't have other family? Danny doesn't?"

Cas shook his head. "Danny was an only child, parents died a few years ago in a car accident. Brittany's mom and dad are in Cortez, so close actually. But her mom has colon cancer, stage four."

Dean whistled. "That's not good. So they can't take her."

Cas waited, Dean's eyes steady on his.

"This may be a stupid question," Dean murmured. "But why you?" He squeezed Cas' hands when he felt him stiffen. "I mean, there must be tons of adoptive parents out there who would kill for that baby girl."

Cas heard the catch in Dean's voice at the last possible second, when his own heart was sinking. But then there it was: a tiny hitch of longing, just before Dean exhaled.

"Because Brittany's folks would like to be in Dani's life, and because they know I fell in love with her," he said quietly. He blew out an unsteady breath. "Kind of nuts, huh? Gay smokejumper who risks his damn life every other _day,_ falls for a tiny baby who mistakenly thinks he's dad material."

"It's not a mistake," Dean whispered. He grasped the back of Cas neck, mouths meeting, moving gently against one another. He dragged a soft kiss across Cas' cheek, ending near his ear. "How soon can we go get her?"

Cas was grinning before he ever lifted his head. "Just like that," he laughed.

"Do you even know me at all," Dean asked drily, one eyebrow cocked. "Although, I don't know where you think you're going to put a baby bed in that tiny locker room at the fire station. And you might have to actually unpack your suitcase."

Cas rolled his eyes. "Very funny." He cleared his throat nervously. "Um, Gabe said that I could move in with him."

Dean frowned. "So you and _Gabe_ are raising this baby?"

Cas watched in amusement as Dean's entire posture deflated. "You want to do this."

Dean shrugged. "Well, yeah. I love you." He chuckled, scratching the stubble on his jaw. "I mean, don't get me wrong. It's unconventional."

Cas snorted.

"But, I don't know," Dean murmured, running his fingers through Cas' hair, combing the messy crown to the side and grinning when it popped right back up, unruly. "It feels right. Doesn't it?"

They smiled at each other for a long moment before Dean scooted back into his seat. "Buckle up, Batman. I'm taking you home to celebrate."

Cas slid back into his seat, buckling his seatbelt. "I feel a little woozy still. You might have to carry me across the threshold when we get there," he said.

"Oh no," Dean said as he started the car. "You're clearly the more macho dad, what with your," he smirked. "Cape. You can carry _me._"

They drove another mile in amused silence, eyes finding each other in the dark.

"So this means we're living together," Cas stated. It was Dean's last out, but by God he was going to give it to him if he wanted it.

"Living together sounds so 1998. I prefer gay married," Dean said firmly, teeth flashing in a wide grin.

"Gay married and having a baby," Cas corrected, pointing an index finger at him. He smiled at the irony, his previous conversation with Molly fresh in his mind.

Dean laughed. "Wow, I feel so _My Two Dads_. I wonder if this is how Greg Evigan felt?"

Cas grinned, cocking his head. "Who?"

Dean slapped the steering wheel. "Seriously? Aw, man. We have some education to take care of when we get home."

Cas smiled slow and sexy. "We definitely have some lost time to make up for. And an empty house to take advantage of. I doubt Sam comes home any time soon."

"Ew," Dean wrinkled his nose. "You don't think they're going to get busy in Gabe's hospital room, do you? That seems unprofessional."

"You would."

Dean grinned, visualizing Cas in the hospital bed earlier. "Hell, yeah I would. Have you _seen_ you?"

Cas snorted. "I think we've established you're hot for my body, Dean, the same way Sam is hot for Gabe, I would imagine."

"Okay, new rule," Dean complained, grumbling. "No talking about my brother in the same breath as my state of manly lust." Cas' hand snuck across the seat to caress his thigh and Dean relaxed. "Unless you want to play with my man parts while you're saying it," he conceded.

"Man parts," Cas chuckled.

"The manliest," Dean said, pulling Cas' hand higher. "Go ahead and talk some more too, that sex voice is as much a turn on as your pretty fingers."

Cas spread his fingers wide and dipped them between Dean's legs. Dean jerked the steering wheel, yelping.

"Okay, nevermind," he squeaked, pulling Cas' hand free and linking their fingers. "Really bad idea, at least until we're not moving at sixty miles per hour."

Cas squeezed his hand. "Spoilsport."

"One of us is supposed to be an emergency response professional, you know," Dean reminded him with a wry grin. "Safety first."

"We're already knocked up," Cas shrugged.

"Very funny." Dean lifted Cas' knuckles to his lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

The impala jerked to the right, bouncing along the shoulder.

"You all right there," Cas asked in amusement as Dean righted the car.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean exhaled. "You can't just spring it on a guy like that."

Cas shrugged. "I wasn't _springing. _I thought it was obvious."

"No," Dean shook his head vigorously. "Not _obvious_. Maybe assumed. Hoped for." He licked his lips nervously, eyes darting to Cas' profile, outlined against the glow from the streetlights . "Say it again," he murmured. His foot eased off the gas.

Cas met his gaze. "I love you, Dean." He smiled softly. "And watch the road."

Dean's chest swelled and he slowed the car to a stop on the shoulder. He flicked on the hazard lights. "Again."

Cas unclipped his seatbelt and slid to the middle of the seat. "I love you," he whispered, waiting.

Dean turned and met him, surging against him hard and desperate, mouths crashing together. He wound his fingers in the hair at Cas' nape, tugging hard. "I love you," he murmured, loving the way the words moved against Cas' mouth, now that he knew they would be returned, whenever he needed them. And even when he didn't.

Cas continued to kiss him, soothing him, sorry he had withheld the words out of some misguided sense of self-protection. He had known them, felt them, days ago, maybe weeks. He rubbed his fist along the hard stubble of Dean's jaw. "You're going to be a dad," he whispered.

"Oh my God," Dean closed his eyes, breathing deep. "I am." His eyes popped open and he grinned. "Man, Uriel is going to have a coronary."

Cas chuckled. Yes, he probably would.

...

Sam propped his chin on his elbow and watched Gabe's nose twitch in his sleep. He used his other hand to lightly run an index finger across the cupid's bow of his top lip, grinning when his whole head jerked.

"Stop that," Gabe grumbled, rubbing his nose. "Ass."

"You've been asleep for like twenty hours. Wake up and smell the doctor already." Sam's voice was hushed.

Gabe groaned and stretched lightly. "It hasn't been twenty hours, you dick. It's been like two." He opened one eye to peer at him. "Please tell me it's only been two. Otherwise that means I haven't showered in like a day and a half and you're entirely too close to my pit."

Sam chuckled and sniffed the air. "You _are_ a little ripe. I wasn't going to mention it."

"Fuck me," Gabe whispered, scrubbing his eyes with his fists. "Please go scribble handsomely in a chart somewhere so I can lie here and die in stinky mortification."

Sam pulled one of his wrists away from his face, shocking Gabe into stillness when he neatly flipped the arm over and brought it to his nose. He sniffed it, dragging his mouth lightly across the skin.

"This part smells okay."

Gabe's eyes bugged when he continued sniffing to the elbow and pressed a light kiss there.

"This is good too."

"Fuck," Gabe breathed.

Sam pushed the hospital gown out of the way so he could continue to the shoulder. "Still good," he murmured.

His face was inches from Gabe's now and he grinned. "Should I check your neck?"

"Yes, _God," _Gabe moaned, craning his head to the left.

Sam laughed, dropping his arm. "Maybe later. You're still recovering." He stood up.

"You _fucker,_" Gabe hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm buzzed to Jesus freak levels here and you're _leaving?_"

Sam bent over his face suddenly and Gabe squeaked.

"I'm going to go check out at the nurses station so I can lie down in the bed next to you and watch you sleep," he said low, eyes sparkling in the dark room. He hesitated and then brushed his lips across Gabe's. "That work for you, shortstack?"

Gabe nodded and their noses brushed. "Works for me," he croaked, licking his lips. He fisted a hand in Sam's scrubs when he started to pull away. "Wait a minute. I think I bit my tongue when you were snorting my arm."

Sam frowned. "That sounds suspiciously like a malpractice claim, Mr. Goodwin." His eyes fell to Gabe's mouth.

Gabe strained his neck, trying to catch his lips and failing. He grunted. "Maybe you should check it out. I'm sure we could work out a compromise, avoid a messy lawsuit."

"I do have a reputation to uphold," Sam whispered. He leaned to the left when Gabe tried again to catch his mouth.

"As a skin snorting, tongue abusing tease," Gabe growled. His skin was humming and _goddamn_ Sam smelled good, like rich chocolate and warm cinnamon. "I'm hungry," he said petulantly.

"Me too," Sam said with feeling, closing the distance and capturing his mouth.

Gabe sighed in relief, the breathy sound ending on a low moan when Sam's tongue did an exceptionally well-executed pass over his own.

Sam sat back with a grin. "Your tongue is fine now. All healed."

"Miracle worker," Gabe exhaled, tugging on his scrub top again.

"Nuh uh," Sam chuckled, prying his fingers loose. "Save some of that energy for later. For your _sponge bath._" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Lord have mercy," Gabe swallowed, closing his eyes. He smiled when Sam's lips brushed his again.

"Be right back," Sam whispered.

"I _like_ the hospital," Gabe said happily.

Sam's quiet laugh was punctuated by a chaste kiss to his forehead. "It's the drugs."

"And my sexy ass doctor." He popped his eyes open again and glared. "You don't snort everyone's elbow do you? That seems a little skeevy."

Sam grinned. "Only the hot teachers."

Gabe blushed, grinning. "You probably need to get out of here before I embarrass myself and say something sappy."

Sam laughed again and patted his leg. "Go back to sleep. I'll be in and out."

Gabe settled back under the thin blanket, letting his eyes drift closed. "Strangely that doesn't make me as horny as I would have thought," he muttered.

He jumped when a hand closed around his wrist and Sam's nose was thrust against his elbow again. Sam breathed deep.

"Mmm. That's good."

Then he was striding out of the room and Gabe was left alone with a strange mixture of excited yearning and dry mouth.

"Fuck," he breathed again.

...

Dean had barely shut the door behind them before Cas' mouth was latched onto his neck, fingers dragging his tee over his head.

"You're going to strangle me," Dean laughed, working as fast as possible to remove his arms before he was hopelessly entangled in the cotton knit.

"Shut up," Cas said calmly, unsnapping Dean's fly and lowering the zip in one smooth movement.

"_God, _I love that sound," Dean moaned, wiggling his hips to help Cas push his jeans low. He shook one leg until the denim caught on his boots. "Shoes," he grunted and lifted a foot.

Cas quirked one eyebrow. "I like how suddenly I'm the valet."

"You're faster," Dean whined, skin starting to tremble. _Holy Jesus. _When Cas dropped to a squat in front of him, Dean swallowed hard and reached out a hand to the crown of his head to steady himself.

Cas snorted, peering up at him as he untied the boot laces. "You okay up there, hoss?"

"You can go ahead and kiss anything that strikes your fancy while you're hanging out down there," Dean breathed, hitching his hips closer to Cas' face.

"Hmmm," Cas murmured, frowning. "I don't know that I see anything I haven't seen before." He yawned loudly and pried the boot from Dean's foot before calmly beginning on the second.

"_Cas._" Dean emitted a low-pitched whine.

"Dean."

Dean tugged on his hair and earned a sharp, dark look.

"Don't."

"Baby, please." Dean massaged his scalp in apology. "_Four. Days._"

Cas slid the second boot free and cupped Dean's calves, running his palms lightly up the back of his legs to his thighs. "I'm aware."

He pressed his lips to Dean's navel.

_"Jesus."_ Dean let his head fall back against the door with a thud.

Cas shifted his weight, dropping to his knees. He tongued Dean's abdomen, breathing his warm scent, using his teeth to peel the waistband of his boxers away. Dean whimpered when his cock bobbed free. His fingers tightened in Cas' hair before he remembered and dropped his hands to the door, scraping uselessly at the wood.

"Do you want me to take you here, Dean? Here in the living room? On the door, or maybe on the floor, like the first time?" Cas was using the lowest register of his voice to wreck havoc with Dean's senses, letting the rise and fall of the syllables blow over his sensitive skin with each exhale.

He slid his fingers down Dean's cock, the velvety skin warm and silky smooth. He reversed the motion as slow as possible, licking his lips as he watched his hand. He glanced up but Dean was gone, lost; he touched the tip with his tongue, wanting to blow those pretty green eyes wide open in shock.

Dean didn't disappoint, groaning when he looked down to find Cas' lips fitting tightly around him, sucking gently. "Floor," he breathed. "Me this time, though. I want to feel you inside me."

Cas popped off, smiling slow and sexy. "I've been waiting a long time for that."

Dean huffed a laugh, rubbing his thumb along Cas' reddened lower lip. "I know. I'm sorry I made you wait."

Cas grinned wickedly. "Not as sorry as you'll be after you know what it's like."

Dean inhaled a shaky breath when Cas continued to watch him, eyes hooded, hand making lazy passes up and down his cock. "You gonna make me wait all night or what?" He would move, but that would mean Cas' hand would stop lazily stroking him, and he thought there was a real possibility he might die if that happened.

"C'mere," Cas murmured reaching for his hands. He pulled Dean to the rug beside him, leaning over him as Dean rolled to his back. "Mmm," he whispered. "Wait. Pillow."

Dean squirmed. "And take off your clothes, you tease. I swear," he complained. "You've got a naked male fetish."

Cas dropped two pillows beside Dean's head and shrugged. "I have a naked _Dean_ fetish." He bent and kissed Dean's hip. "Lift your ass, baby."

Dean bit his lip nervously. "I feel like a virgin on her first date," he grumbled, tugging at the scrub top Cas still wore. "At least give me something to look at. I'm dying here and you're still dressed like my brother."

Cas gave him a dry look, positioning the pillow under Dean's hips. "If you kill my hard on by mentioning our brothers, I'm withholding all blow jobs for a month."

Dean slammed his mouth shut. He had barely made it four days.A _month?_

Cas furthered the threat by giving Dean a brief taste of what he'd be missing when he tongued his slit again, sucking on the tip lightly. Dean writhed.

"Cas," he moaned.

"Forgot something," Cas grunted, popping off again and hopping to his feet. He ripped the scrub top off and tossed it into a corner, loosening the drawstring on the pants as he walked across the floor. Dean got a flash of firm ass cheek when he kicked the pants loose as he rounded the hallway corner.

"Where are you going," Dean whined, fisting himself in his hand.

"Don't touch yourself," Cas ordered.

Dean frowned, dropping his palms to the rug. _Psychic asshole._

Cas returned with the small bottle from the nightstand in Dean's room and Dean twitched impatiently. "No hurry or anything. I'm just dying here," he grumbled. "And I like that, waltzing around ass naked when I can't even enjoy it. I hereby institute _naked night_, from the hours of eight p.m. and six a.m. No clothing allowed for you." He tugged at Cas' hips when he straddled his legs.

"You don't think Sam would have a problem with my naked ass flouncing all over his house," Cas grinned.

"Sam can suck it," Dean quipped, then blanched and corrected himself hurriedly, stroking the member in question with his fist. "I take that back. There will be no Sam sucking of any kind. Got that?"

Cas laughed softly, dropping low to kiss him. "Got it," he whispered before sitting back on Dean's thighs. He poured some of the liquid in his palm and rubbed his hands together. "I'm going to touch you now," he murmured, gentle fingers feathering across his groin.

Dean jumped, grasping at the rug again. His eyes fell closed when Cas touched him with slick fingers, tracing the length of his cock, holding it gently in a palm, testing the weight. He bent low and kissed it, but concentrated more on Dean's abdomen, pressing light suction to the soft, smooth skin below his navel while his hands worked their magic.

Dean tensed when he felt him nudge against his opening.

"Relax, baby," Cas breathed against his thigh. He rubbed small circles, teasing, asking for permission. He smiled the instant he felt Dean relax and the tip of his finger slid in.

Dean groaned. "More," he breathed.

"Give it a minute babe." Cas pulled one of Dean's knees over his shoulder so he had more room, turning his face to suck at the skin now so close to his face. His finger could slide deeper at this angle and Dean's hips jerked, sinking into his hand. Cas smiled. "I knew you'd like this."

"Mmm, I do," Dean moaned, still clutching at the floor. "More." His hips stiffened and moved of their own volition, trying to find a rhythm.

Cas chuckled and obliged, sliding in a second digit. He worked Dean slowly, letting Dean set the pace, loving the way he opened under him, welcoming his touch.

"It's easer from the back," he whispered, sliding his hands free and lowering Dean's knee. He sucked against the base of Dean's sorely neglected cock and it twitched, the tip leaking fluid along Dean's stomach. He kissed his way slowly up Dean's body. "But I want to see your face."

Dean pulled at his ears, dragging their mouths together in a desperate kiss. He thrust his hips against Cas', rubbing their cocks together, hot and slick and hard.

Cas reached for the bottle of liquid without breaking the kiss, popping the top again. "Just a little more, Dean, I want it to be perfect."

"It's already perfect," Dean said, but he dropped his head back to the carpet and ran his hands down Cas' chest. He closed his fingers around him and tugged, smiling. _God_ he was pretty, sitting on top of him like that. Dean was so aroused his entire body was thrumming with want and need, and he was afraid he would never be able to withhold his orgasm once Cas was inside him. He wriggled again in anticipation.

"Now? How about now." He pulled at Cas' waist.

Cas chuckled. "You have no patience." He finished coating himself with the slick substance and shocked Dean into a gasping silence when he slid two fingers in at once, scissoring him open with gentle strokes. He found his prostate and Dean cried out.

"That's it, Dean. That's wonderland." He spread Dean's legs wide, lifting his knees so he could sink into him, grunting from the effort it took to go slow enough. He wanted it to be good, the best.

"I love you," he exhaled.

Dean chuckled breathlessly, hands brushing whatever skin he could reach. "And not even in the heat of the moment. Must be true."

Cas closed his eyes, fully seated. "It's true," he breathed, straining as he waited for a sign from Dean that he could move. "_God,_ you feel amazing."

Dean closed his fist around himself, desperate for _something._ He whimpered when Cas pulled out a little way. "Don't."

Cas frowned, concerned. "You okay?" His thighs were starting to shake.

"Mm hmm," Dean sighed, eyes closed. "Let's stay like this forever."

Cas chuckled, relieved and the vibration did crazy things to Dean deep within his body; he could feel it pulsing through him from the inside out. "I may be a superhero, but even Batman can't last forever," Cas groaned.

"Pansy," Dean chided, biting his lower lip. "Move a little," he ordered softly.

Cas frowned, concentrating, and began with light, shallow strokes, gauging the best depth and angle by Dean's expressions. He watched Dean's fingers squeeze his own cock, moving the soft, loose skin languidly in time to Cas' thrusts.

"Don't come before me, Dean," Cas warned.

Dean grinned. "Bossy. No promises." His breath hitched when Cas slammed against him. "There," he groaned. "Again."

Cas pulled almost all the way out and snapped his hips forward again, this time tearing a cry from Dean's lips. And then it was impossible to draw it out, make it last forever, or even all night. His hips ground into a rhythm all on their own, using Dean's cries and gasps as motivation and guidance.

Dean disobeyed, coming over his stomach, breathing Cas' name, bright green eyes hot on his face.

Cas followed soon after, squeezing fingertip bruises into Dean's thighs where he held them around his waist before collapsing into his chest and slotting their mouths together, hot and sweaty and wonderfully fitted.

"Love you," he gasped against his mouth.

"I know," Dean answered, kissing him long and deep. He would be sore tomorrow, he could feel it, a deep, unfamiliar pang inside, but it was sweet, like a secret place held only for Cas, a reminder of how good they were together.

Cas reached wide, fingers outstretched for Dean's t-shirt, and produced it with a triumphant smile. Dean chuckled.

"Too lazy to crawl over there?"

Cas wiped Dean's stomach clean before using it on himself. "My thighs are _screaming_ no thanks to a very selfish horny bastard I know." He sank into Dean's side, shivering at a sudden chill. "We should probably go to bed," he yawned.

"Can't move," Dean murmured, kissing his temple. "Carry me."

Cas snorted in his neck. "Fuck you. I did all the work. You carry me."

"Hey, I helped, there at the end."

"How," Cas laughed, eyes twinkling. "And moaning encouragement doesn't count."

"It does too count," Dean groused, rolling up on an elbow. He smiled down at Cas. "Hi."

"Hi."

"You want to just lie here til we can have a go at round two?"

Cas grinned. "Sounds good to me."

Dean flopped back down beside him, gathering Cas close. "Go get a blanket."

"_Dean."_

"Sammy will be here soon and I don't want him ogling your pert little ass."

"Uh huh. You're just too lazy to go get it yourself." Cas squeezed his waist. They breathed easily against each other, heartbeats slowing. "Where will Sam go, when we have Dani?"

Dean frowned. "What do you mean? He'll probably stay here."

Cas fidgeted. "Forever?" He rolled over to face Dean. "She won't have a room of her own?" Dean's house was a two-bedroom.

"Well, until he finishes residency, he's here. I guess." Dean shrugged. "This was never really something I needed a contingency plan for, Cas."

Cas stiffened. "Dani's not a contingency plan, Dean."

"I didn't say that."'

"What if you had never met me, married say, _Lisa." _Cas' voice held a tinge of sarcasm. "Would Sam still live with you then?"

"Cas." Dean shook his head, swallowing a spurt of anger. "Are you trying to pick a fight?"

"No." Cas rolled to his back. "Maybe."

They lay in uncomfortable silence for a few moments. "Should we talk about this," Dean asked.

"Probably," Cas sighed. "Damn. It was too perfect, wasn't it."

"Hey," Dean protested softly, squeezing an arm around his waist. "Sam's living situation doesn't make it less perfect. It's just a snag. We'll figure it out."

Cas sat up and Dean's arm fell away. "Maybe you should sleep on this." He looked back at Dean, but his eyes were unreadable. "Dani and I could always stay with Gabe for a while until you're sure."

"Why can't I be sure now," Dean asked, voice tight. He sat up too.

Cas opened his mouth to speak and his phone went off, the fire emergency ringtone. He reached for it, sliding the lock button free as he rolled to his feet.

"Novak." He listened, mouth terse. "Pick me up at Dean's in ten?" He stalked to the hallway and grabbed the scrubs, frowning at them. "Can I borrow some clothes? I can't exactly show up as Batman, and I really don't want to explain these."

Dean stood too, suddenly self-conscious. He tugged on his boxers. "Is it a fire?" He followed Cas to his bedroom, eyes devouring his handsome back as he tugged a pair of Dean's jeans in place without bothering to wear underwear. Dean felt a stab of jealousy when he realized Cas would be changing again once he reached the firehouse, narrow waist and trim, naked hips in plain view of the other firefighters. "I don't like you living there," he blurted.

Cas raised his eyebrows and tugged on the first tee he grabbed, one Dean had worn yesterday and hadn't thrown in the wash. "Not really much I can do about that right now."

"You could go back in time ten minutes and be living with me in sin," Dean tried for levity.

Cas paused beside him, hesitant, ignoring the quip, mind already on the job. "I'll call you later," he said before leaning forward and brushing Dean's lips.

"Cas, wait," Dean murmured, tugging at his waist.

"I can't, Dean. Not right now. We'll talk tomorrow. I'm on twenty-four though, and I don't know how long this one will take." He gave him one more brief kiss, sighing. "Go to bed, you're tired."

Then he was gone, leaving Dean standing in the bedroom, staring at the empty door.

...

Dean made it approximately twenty-two and one-half minutes before he gave up and dialed Cas' number.

He still wasn't entirely sure how a simple question had escalated so quickly into Cas living with Gabe again. But now _he_ was distracted which meant _Cas_ was distracted, and while the worst Dean could do was over boil his coffee while he waited desperately for word, Cas' distraction might put him in real danger.

Dean _wanted_ this: the house, the family, the baby with her own nursery. He didn't want them to screw it up before they had even gotten used to the idea, and he desperately didn't want Cas approaching a life-threatening situation thinking Dean had changed his mind. He dialed the number, nerves making him jumpy.

"I can't talk right now, Dean." Cas' voice was tight when he answered.

"Forget everything I said," Dean said in a rush. His chest was tight with worry and remorse.

Cas snorted. "How far back? And _I don't have time for this."_ Dean could hear the rustle of Kevlar and canvas as Cas dressed hurriedly. "I've got to go."

"Cas, wait!" Dean exhaled. "I don't want Sam to have Dani's room," he bumbled all over his half-thought out speech.

"What?" Cas' voice was distracted, distant. Dean could hear the hollow echo of the fire station and the roar of the engine as the truck lumbered to life.

"I like green better than pink, it will last longer, and Bobby has our old cradle, for some reason it was stored in his barn so it didn't burn when my folks died, and-"

"I love you," Cas interrupted, voice husky. "But I've got cats to rescue, babe."

Dean sighed. "I was working my way up to that," he complained after a beat. He could hear the grin in Cas' voice when he replied, and the clamp around his heart began to ease.

"Yeah, well lead with that next time. Now go to bed. Preferably naked. And _go to sleep._ You have five-year-old's to mold bright and early tomorrow."

"Naked, huh," Dean murmured, delaying the inevitable moment when the line would click dead and the wait for Cas to return safe and sound would begin.

"Stop stalling," Cas said, low. "And yes. _Sans clothes._ I'll be home as soon as I can." Dean heard voices in the background, recognized one as Rufus'. "I like green too," filtered gently over the line before the call ended.

_I'm sorry_ and _I love you_ and a dozen other things were hidden in those four words.

Dean decided to count it as a win, not as in _keeping score,_ but as in _we disagreed and it changes nothing and we're still okay_.

He'd take that.

...


	11. Chapter 11

Dean woke from a fitful sleep when the bed dipped and a body slid under the sheet, crowding next to him, skin cool and damp from the shower. He tried to roll over but was caught fast around the waist by an arm, one palm flat to his chest. He covered Cas' hand with his, pressing it tight into his skin.

"You came back," he murmured.

"Mm hmm," Cas whispered, nuzzling his ear. "Go back to sleep. It's only four."

Dean relished the warmth of Cas spooned against his back, but he needed to see for himself that he was unharmed, whole. He lifted the hand at his chest and neatly flipped his position so they were pressed chest to chest.

Cas grinned. "Hi, there."

Dean kissed him hungrily, swallowing down the little gasp of surprise accompanied by a low moan from deep in Cas' throat. Their lips broke suction audibly and Dean sighed. "Hi."

"Wow," Cas breathed, sliding a knee between Dean's legs. "I must have interrupted a pretty intense dream. Was I in it?"

"Why bother with a dream when I've got the real thing right here?" Dean cupped a hand around his butt, molding their bodies together. Cas smelled like Dean's shampoo and body wash and he breathed him in. "You came back," he repeated. "For two hours."

"Give or take." Cas nibbled on his lips, sucking one gently between his teeth. "And I do kind of live here now."

Dean smiled, eyes drifting closed. _Now_ he could sleep. "Yes you do. We need to bring your stuff from the fire station," he said, voice dropping off.

Cas kissed his cheek, settling on the pillow beside Dean's head. "What do you think that suitcase is in the corner?"

Dean blinked his eyes open and craned his neck. Sure enough, Cas' large green suitcase was tucked against the wall by the closet. "I suppose you're going to want your own drawer now."

"Or I could just keep wearing your clothes," Cas growled against his ear, running his hands down Dean's back and sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers. He massaged the firm flesh. "You've got the best ass, Winchester."

"Focus," Dean murmured, snuggling closer. "Sleep now, sex later."

"How about sex now, sex later, sleep tomorrow." Cas sucked into the tender skin of his neck, and Dean squirmed, riding his knee.

He groaned. "Five year olds, Cas. Who can outsmart me, out sass me, and out run me on a good day."

Cas chuckled. "You're going to have to work on your running and your sass, daddy." He flopped back on the pillow, stretching out on the opposite side of the bed.

Dean reached for him, grumbling. "Not too far." But he was warmed from the inside out. _Daddy._

Cas linked their fingers, kissing Dean's knuckles. "I'm hot," he murmured. "Go back to sleep. I'll wake you before I have to leave again."

"I like that plan," Dean said, breath evening out as he dropped off.

He was asleep, face relaxed, when Cas smoothed the hair from Dean's forehead, smiling softly. Cas had no idea how it had happened, but in the space of five weeks he had a home and a family.

It was both heady and terrifying.

He kissed the knuckles linked with his again and let himself follow Dean to sleep.

...

Dean ran up the stairs that separated the kindergarten and first grade from the second grade classrooms. He needed to check on Gabe's substitute before he left for the day. He had called Sam during his lunch break and discovered Gabe was being discharged.

"He'll be home in about an hour," Sam said, before grunting and dropping the phone.

Dean grinned, listening to the scuffling sounds in the background.

"They're trying to kill me," Gabe announced breathlessly, apparently having won the struggle for the phone.

"I sincerely doubt that," Dean said drily. "They could have just left your rotting appendix in there and sped things along."

"Who's to say they _didn't,_" Gabe complained. Dean almost hear the pissed glare he was undoubtedly giving Sam.

"Hey, you're right," Dean said cheerfully. "Maybe it's in there right now, spreading poisonous toxins throughout your body."

"You're no help," Gabe grumbled. "Hey!"

More rustling, followed by Sam's voice. "I'm discharging him and taking him home." Sam started to laugh and Dean could hear Gabe's voice in the background. '_You're an asshole, Sam Winchester. I don't know what I ever saw in you.' _

"He's been a little crabby since we weaned him off the morphine pump," Sam said.

'_Dean! Dean tell him I don't exaggerate. That if I say I'm in excruciating pain, it's God's truth.'_

"He's the biggest liar I ever met. Don't believe a word he says," Dean said, grinning.

"Yeah, I kinda got that." Sam's voice dropped and Dean thought he had probably turned his back to Gabe and stepped away.

_'At least have the good grace to take your stupid doctor coat off so I can ogle your ass. Jerk.'_

"He's probably fine to stay home alone, but," Sam cleared his throat, awkward. He was glad Dean couldn't see his flushed skin.

"So stay with him a few nights," Dean offered, amused at Sam's embarrassed tone. "Don't tell me this is your first grown up sleepover, Samantha."

"I _would_," Sam said, "also _shut up,_ but I'm here late tonight and tomorrow. Can he stay with you?"

Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Um, sure." _Crap._ He hadn't told Sam about Cas or Dani. "Oh, ah, Cas moved in."

Sam snorted. "No shit."

Dean blinked. "What do you mean, _no shit._ He _just_ moved in this morning."

"Dean, Cas hasn't spent a single night at the fire station since you jumped his bones that first night at the Roadhouse."

"He jumped _my_ bones, thank you very much," Dean protested, but Sam ignored him.

"He sleeps in your bed, he wears your clothes, he has a toothbrush in our bathroom."

"Sam."

"He drives your car, his political thriller paperbacks are all over the living room, his favorite beer is in the fridge."

"_Sam."_

"You switched shampoo because you _like the smell_, which I immediately translated to you like the smell_ on Cas,_ he has his own favorites folder on the laptop, and his own channel guide on the TV."

"Sam!"

Sam blinked. "What?"

"We're also adopting a baby. Her name is Danielle."

"I know."

Dean pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it hard. "How do you know," he asked peevishly. _Dammit_. Couldn't he for _once _be unpredictable?

"Gabe explained about Cas' baby this morning, once he came down off his painkiller high."

"And you just _assumed_ I'd go along with it? Just like that?"

"Didn't you?"

Dean frowned. "That's not the point."

Sam chuckled. "Dean, the day you turn down a baby is the day I hang up my stethoscope and spend the rest of my life changing the oil on foreign cars down at Bobby's."

Dean shuddered. "Stupid VW's and their hidden oil filters," he muttered.

"Dean."

"What," Dean sighed.

"Congratulations, daddy," Sam said, tone fond.

Dean flushed, a warm happiness suffusing his body. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Ok, so." Sam turned away from the window he had been staring out of to find Gabe passed out on the bed, snoring lightly. He chuckled. "Once I get sleeping beauty here roused and dressed, I'm dropping him at the house. Better bring something home for dinner. He shouldn't be up roaming around too much."

"Can do," Dean said before hanging up. He spent the remainder of his lunch eating a peanut butter sandwich and daydreaming about handsome, dark-haired firefighters in canvas pants.

Washing the fire engine on a sunny day.

Shirtless.

Now he stood just outside of Gabe's classroom, his last stop before heading home. He had just raised his hand to knock when his phone buzzed in his pocket. _Cas._ He slid open the lock to find a picture message.

Inside was a close up photo of a baby girl, all chocolate brown eyes and ridiculously long eyelashes, her face obviously too close to the camera lens, distorting the shape of her head slightly. Her little lips were bright pink and smiling, two tiny teeth visible in her lower gum.

It was captioned: _Meet your daughter, Danielle._

Dean sagged against the wall by the door, his heart grinding to a stop in his chest before galloping forward double time. _His daughter._

He might have had to swipe at his eye.

Stupid dusty hallways.

He quickly sent a reply. _She obviously gets her good looks from her favorite dad._

He was still grinning at Cas' reply (_Thanks. You're not so bad yourself. Maybe the next one will look like you?)_ when Gabe's door opened and the sub emerged.

"Oh, hello," she said, surprised to find someone standing there.

Dean hastily wiped his stupid wet eyes again. "Hi." He thrust out a hand. "Dean Winchester, kindergarten teacher and Mr. Goodwin's friend."

"You okay there," she asked, tilting her head in concern, shaking his hand carefully.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean shook the phone in his hand. "Sorry. Babies, right? They get me right here." He thumped his chest, cheeks burning.

The sub craned her neck to see the photo still backlit on the phone. "She's beautiful. Yours?"

Dean nodded, grin splitting his face. "Yeah. Danielle."

"Well, she's gorgeous. You must be one proud daddy," she smiled, heart melting at the handsome father standing in the hallway, crying over his pretty baby girl. "Did you need something from me?"

Dean tucked the phone back into his pocket, desperately wanting to go back to his room so he could print out the photo and hang it on the corkboard behind his desk. "Just checking on you. Making sure you were good with Gabe's plans."

"Yeah, everything went really well today. Tomorrow we have a science experiment. So that should be fun." She pulled the classroom door shut behind her and they began to walk slowly down the hall.

"Well, you let me know if you need anything. Gabe's going to stay with me until he's back on his feet. So I can totally run interference if I have to," he joked.

The sub laughed and stuck out her hand again. "That would be great! Linsey," she offered.

Dean gripped her fingers firmly. "Nice to meet you Linsey." He saw the way her eyes lingered on his left hand.

"Is your wife a teacher," she asked when they started down the steps.

"Ah, no." Dean bit his lip. "We're not married, and he's a firefighter."

"_Oh,_" Linsey said, her mouth a little round 'O' of surprise. "That's a dangerous profession," she said after a brief pause.

Dean looked at her with new respect. "He's pretty good, and very careful. He used to be a smokejumper," he said proudly. And _God._ When did he turn into the proud husband and father who preened and bragged and fucking _cried_ over baby photos on his phone?

"I'm sure he is," Linsey laughed. "With a couple of charmers like you and Danielle waiting at home for him? He probably coats himself in fire-proof repellent every time he goes out on a call."

They were near the exit now and Dean smiled. "Thanks Linsey," he said kindly. "Have a good night."

"You too, Dean. Kiss that baby for me." She winked. "And that fireman."

He watched as she left the building, skipping down the steps, carefree and young, the world at her feet. He dug the phone from his front pocket and slid open Dani's photo again. He felt a little like skipping himself. He tapped out another text message. _Dinner at the Roadhouse tonight? With Ellen and Bobby and Jo? _He had family to spread the word to, if he could get in front of Sam and his big ass mouth.

**_Cas: _**_I can drop in, unless someone sets their kitchen on fire. See you about 7?_

**_Dean: _**_7 it is. Love you._

**_Dean: _**_Oh. And Gabe's living with us for a while too. My brother is a needy bitch._

**_Cas: _**_They should get a room already._

**_Cas: _**_I love you. Have your clothes off by the time I get home. _

Dean snorted and put the phone back in his pocket. Perpetually horny boyfriend.

This was turning out to be an excellent November. And it was only the first.

...

"After all this time, you knocked some girl up." Bobby's scowl was ferocious. "Did I teach you _nothing_ about wrapping that thing up?" He jabbed his index finger at Dean's crotch.

Jo snickered, clapping a hand over her mouth at Dean's glare.

"Bobby, I'm with _Cas_. You know that."

The furrow between Bobby's eyes deepened. "That don't mean you shouldn't wear a shower cap when the weather's ripe."

Ellen leaned over the bar, chuckling. "Is that some sort of charming euphemism, Bobby Singer? Cause I gotta tell you old man, the weather at your house has been pretty dry."

Bobby looked at Ellen evenly. "It was pretty stormy at yours back in September. More than once."

"Oh, wait, what?" Jo wrinkled her nose. "I think I'm having an aneurysm. Where's Sam when you need an actual doctor?" She sat on a stool with a _thwump_.

Dean grinned. "Bobby and Ellen, sittin' in a tree.."

"What are you, six?" Bobby threw back the rest of his beer and slid the mug down the bar where Ellen caught it, giving him a sly wink.

"Can we skip over my non-wrapped perishables and go back to the part where I have a baby and you haven't seen her picture yet."

"Ooh, you have a picture?" Jo jumped off the stool and crowded between his legs, craning her neck.

"Get off me, Jo," Dean laughed as she wedged herself under his elbow.

"I second that," Cas' voice was amused but held an edge as he joined the group, tossing his phone and car keys on the bar.

"Hold onto your panties fire boy, I'm looking at your kid." Jo swooned. "Oh Jesus. She's beautiful. Of course." She ducked back under Dean's arm, putting some distance between herself and Cas' glittering eyes. "As if you two could have an ugly kid."

Dean chuckled. "We didn't provide her genetic material, Jo." But she _was_ gorgeous. There was no denying it. He had an 8x10 inch color printout behind his desk at school to prove it. He leaned into the possessive palm Cas placed low on his back.

"Can you imagine growing up the homely kid with these two gorgeous assholes as your parents?" Jo rolled her eyes. "God isn't that cruel."

"Jo, did you just call me gorgeous? I _knew_ you had it bad for me. All that Sam bullshit when we were growing up was a ploy to get in my pants, wasn't it?" Dean passed the phone to Bobby's outstretched hand and Ellen came around the bar so she could peer over the old mechanics shoulder.

"In your dreams, grease monkey," Jo scoffed. "_Sam_ is ungodly handsome. Like, that shit isn't even funny. He never once had an awkward day in his life. What _is_ that?"

Dean smirked when he saw Sam and Gabe approaching, Cas' brother moving _very_ slowly.

"I don't know, why don't you ask the handsome fucker now?"

"Shit," Jo sighed. She turned to glare at Sam. "I was trying to deflate your brother's enormous ego with lies and misdirection. Don't get any ideas."

"Sure thing Jo, but that's not what you said when you had your thighs wrapped around my—" Sam grunted when Jo delivered a sharp left jab to his gut.

"Children," Ellen murmured. She grinned at Dean and Cas. "She's a beauty, Castiel."

"Thank you," Cas said, smiling down at Dean's upturned face. He'd really like to kiss him right now, but he wasn't sure if Dean was ready for public displays of affection. So he settled for massaging the curve of his ass on the barstool.

"God, the eyefucking," Gabe groaned, leaning heavily on the table where he gently lowered himself to a seat. "We _know_ you're doing the horizontal tango at every conceivable spare moment, so why the constant lust-filled stares? You two are making me nauseous."

"No, you're nauseous because you should be in bed," Sam said sternly, frowning.

"Why _aren't_ you snuggled tight in Sam's bed, anyway?"

"Mother of God," Bobby muttered, taking another long swig of his beer and turning his back on the group.

"And miss the grand baby announcement, are you kidding?" Gabe's face brightened. "Hey, that's right. Congratulations, Grandpa!"

Bobby flinched. "Seriously? You gotta drag me into this?"

Dean stood and slapped Bobby on the back. "That's right, Gramps. How's it feel? First grandbaby. Beers all round, on me!"

Ellen cocked one eyebrow. "On you, huh?"

"Well, you," Dean grinned. "Me vicariously." His skin hummed nicely wherever Cas' hand grazed him through his clothes. His stupidly handsome firefighter was wearing that too-tight navy t-shirt and those damn pants Dean spent entirely too much time fantasizing about. He wondered if he could convince Cas to join him in the alleyway for a mini-groping session.

"It feels like old age," Bobby snapped. "_Grandpa._" He shuddered.

Ellen waved him off, slapping a hand on the countertop. "Who wants a burger?"

At the chorus of agreement, Ellen gave Jo a pointed look.

"And, there it is," Jo muttered. "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride." She leaned over Gabe's shoulder, mouth brushing against his ear. "Extra cheese and jalapenos on yours, hot shot?"

Gabe groaned, covering his mouth. "If you weren't a girl, I'd hit you right now."

"You pansy, Jo would kick your ass," Dean chortled. "And that's if you _didn't_ look like you were about to hurl all over Ellen's dance floor."

Ellen pointed a finger at Gabe in warning.

Sam pulled Jo off of Gabe, shoving her toward the kitchen with a black look. "None for us, Ellen, thanks. This was just a pit stop before I take him home." He grinned wide in amusement. "We wanted to be here to offer moral support and medical care in case Grandpa went off the deep end."

"I'm too old for this shit," Bobby muttered into his glass.

Ellen leaned into his side, bumping her hip against his. "Well, no, Papa. You're not. That's kind of the point." She winked before she swung around the end of the bar. "Dinner in twenty, boys."

"I'll have to take mine to go," Cas said low, breath tousling the hair on Dean's temple.

Dean scowled. "You just got here."

"And I told Rufus I would be _right back._" He air quoted, grinning.

"Take that old coot a burger and some of Ellen's home cut fries. He'll forget to bluster," Bobby offered. He held out his hand to Dean. "Let me see her again."

Dean grinned, heart swelling. "You can't fool me, old man. You're sunk." He passed the phone.

Bobby grunted, squinting at the little face on the screen. "Head's lopsided. You sure you can't get a better one?"

"It is not," Dean declared hotly, snatching the phone back and peering closely at the photo.

Bobby chuckled. "Dean with a kid, who would have thunk it."

"It's not that far out of the realm of possibility," Dean muttered under his breath, rubbing the phone on his thigh. Too many people had touched it and now Dani's face was covered in fingerprints.

"Actually it's sort of shocking you escaped it this far," Sam mused, helping Gabe to his feet. "I mean, you _are_ kind of a slut."

"Hey," Dean protested.

"That's the truth," Bobby sighed sadly. "It was crazy the way those girls used to chase you. God_damn_. How many did I run out of your room in the wee hours, boy?"

"I don't think I want to hear this," Cas said, but his eyes were sparkling in amusement.

"Oh, you should hear it. Damn boy's pecker must be solid gold and encrusted in diamonds. Every divorcee in Minnehaha county has tried to lay claim to it." He tipped his mug in Cas' direction. "I'm sort of awed someone finally won."

"I'm not a trophy," Dean complained, shifting uncomfortably. "And my pecker is _not_ encrusted with diamonds."

"We could do that though, bejewel it," Gabe called from the door as Sam buttoned his jacket, turning up the collar for him with a soft grin. "Very popular vajayjay treatment, I hear. All the rage."

"That's true, I went to a party once," Jo offered, hopping around the end of the bar, fresh beers in hand. "It was some weird ass shit. Women dropping their panties right and left. Gluing these little sparkles all over each others' hoo hahs."

"I prefer plain pecker," Cas said calmly, accepting the bottle Jo offered.

"Lord help me," Bobby groaned, turning his back on them again.

"I think I still have a vote on my own pecker," Dean said drily.

"No you don't," Jo and Cas said in unison. They high-fived each other, grinning.

Ellen and Jo had just set the overflowing plates on the bar when Ash appeared, squeezing between the tables, a giant stuffed dog preceding him.

"Am I too late? Did I miss it?" He plopped the dog on Dean's lap and sat back on a stool with a gasp. "Damn, that thing takes some maneuverin'. I could barely see to drive. Got pulled over once."

Dean shoved the soft brown head to the side so he could peer at the squirrely mechanic. "You drove over here with this dog on your bike," he asked incredulously. The dog was four feet tall if he was an inch and at least two feet wide. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"I strapped it to me with a bungee cord," Ash said proudly, pulling said bungee cord loose from his belt and waving it above his head.

Cas chuckled and took a large bite of his burger. These people were all clearly nuts, but he was beginning to enjoy them.

"And this is mama, huh," Ash said, slapping Cas on the back. "Or do you top? Hey Dean—"

"For God's sake, Ash," Bobby groused. "I'm trying to eat here."

"Okay, okay," Ash said, palms flat and high, a peace offering. "Sexual positions are generally dessert topics. I capiche."

"Ash!"

Ellen chuckled, taking a bite of her burger. She eyeballed Cas from her perch across the bar. "So, Cas," she chewed and swallowed. "Are you going to make an honest man of our Dean?"

"Oh for Pete's sake," Dean groaned around his mouthful of fries. "Really not necessary, Ellen."

Cas eyed her evenly, generously spreading ketchup on an extra-long fry. "I picked out a ring this afternoon down at Dublin's."

Dean choked and Cas reached over and thumped him on the back.

"Diamond or plain." Ellen's face was serious, eyebrow cocked.

"Plain," Cas said smoothly. He popped the fry in his mouth.

"Engraving?"

Jo's head sprang back and forth between her mother and Cas, while Dean's mouth worked open and closed like a fish.

"Of course," Cas inclined his head. "But that's private."

Ellen sniffed as she studied him. "You'll do." She passed him the Tabasco. "Try this on your burger. My own little secret ingredient."

Cas thanked her and shook a few squirts of the hot sauce under his bun. He took a large bite and chewed, moaning his approval. "Mmm. Good," he said, still chewing.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Ellen rebuked before turning to Ash. "And you. Get your scrawny ass back stage and plug us in some tunes, boy. This place is deader than Satan's mistress."

Ash trotted off to do Ellen's bidding while Bobby made sidelong glances at the saucy barkeep. Jo tapped her foot in time to the fast-paced tune Ash chose, jumping up from her seat to pull the skinny man into an impromptu two-step when he ambled back to the bar.

Dean stole fries off of Cas' plate while Cas drank most of Dean's beer (the Tabasco was _hot). _

All in all, it was a nearly perfect night.

At half-past nine, Dean walked with Cas to his truck, hating like hell that it would be hours before he saw him again.

"So, ah," Dean fidgeted, toying with the door handle on Cas' fire department truck. "You were making the ring thing up, right? Just giving Ellen some of her own medicine?"

Cas smiled while he watched Dean's nervous movements, green eyes wide and cautious, deep pink tongue chasing the dryness from his lips. "What do you think," he asked, voice low and deep.

Dean groaned, rolling his eyes. "Don't play coy, we have _seconds_ before Ash comes out and ruins all my warm fuzzies with his inappropriate admiration for your crotch."

Cas cocked his head, amused. "He does seem inordinately interested in it, considering he's your friend."

"Ash is _not_ my friend," Dean insisted. "He's just..." He chuckled self-consciously. "He's just Ash. He's always around, embarrassing you when you least expect it, fixing you up with kleptomaniacs, drinking all your beer when he comes over." With each example he had moved one step more into Cas' personal bubble until there was a scant inch separating their bodies. Dean could feel the heat of Cas' skin through his thin t-shirt and he shivered.

"So, family," Cas grinned.

Dean laughed, glad Cas understood. "Exactly. And it's acceptable to ignore family when necessary."

Cas tucked a hand behind Dean's neck, pulling him closer so he could suck at the edge of his mouth. "So I can ignore the fact that he's right behind you, leaning against his bike, grinning like he won the lottery?"

Dean jerked back, knocking his head against the window glass. "_Fuck._" He turned to glare at Ash. "Would you turn around, _God._"

Ash grinned, shrugging, but he dutifully turned his back.

Dean faced Cas again. "Kiss me quick. He's got zero impulse control."

Cas obliged, yanking Dean's hips flush against his own, grinding him hard against the door.

They broke apart, breathing heavily.

"So, ring?"

"Like a dog with a bone," Cas whispered, licking Dean's lower lip. He kissed Dean's ear. "You're just going to have to wait and see." He took a hefty step backward.

"Ugh," Dean groaned when he reached for him and Cas neatly dodged his fingertips. "You're a cocktease."

Cas pushed Dean away from the door opening and climbed in the driver's seat. "I better go. I should have been back an hour ago," he said. He waved to Ash who had turned to watch them again at some point. "Later, Ash," he called.

"Later, dude!"

Dean grimaced stepping out of the way so Cas could shut the door. "Not one lick of privacy, not once in my everloving life."

Cas leaned out the window and Dean stepped forward to kiss him again. "Remember what I said," Cas reminded him with a wink.

Dean grinned. "What? No clothes? Not like I can drop trou on Fifth and Main, Novak." He wagged his eyebrows. "We have the good citizens of Sioux Falls to consider. My solid gold pecker might cause a pile up."

"Don't make me get out of this truck, Dean," Cas warned, eyes dark.

"Fine," Dean sighed in mock frustration. He started unbuttoning his pants.

"Hot damn!" Ash hooted from across the street.

Cas chuckled. "Smartass. I expect a fully naked Winchester in my bed when I get home tomorrow morning."

Dean saluted with a saucy wink.

He waited until Cas drove away before pointing at Ash. "Pervert," he called.

"Oh you are _so_ a bottom, Dean Winchester," Ash laughed, kicking his bike into gear.

"Am not," Dean grumbled as he watched the bike lumber down the street. "We switch. Sometimes." He rolled his eyes when he realized he was defending his sexual positions to a United States Postal Service mailbox. He frowned at the chipped blue paint. "What? We _do_. Oh shut up."

Then he drove home and took off all his clothes before he climbed between a fresh set of sheets. Where he proceeded to sleep like a baby and dreamed of fire engines and Tabasco sauce and rings with engraved messages and baby girls with dark brown eyes.

...


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note: **__Rotten real life that sucks my writing time into the vast void of nothingness. Well played, real life. Well played. [Apologies for the delay!]_

_..._

"Nice hickey," Jo smirked, slurping her iced coffee through a straw.

Dean tugged his t-shirt neckline down. "Jealous Jo?"

"That you landed the hottest fucking firefighter in Minnehaha county on your first gay? Hell, yeah!"

Dean chuckled and shrugged his t-shirt back into place. He had awakened that morning to a vigorous and suction-packed attack on his collarbone. Zero to sex hair in six seconds, that was his Cas. "So what are we shopping for first? Did you get the list from Ellen?"

He and Jo were at the mall, a special hell he normally avoided like the plague unless it was one of those mall-inevitable holidays like Christmas or Father's Day. Today, they were shopping for a baby car seat and baby sheets and diapers and bottles and whatever else Dean had no idea he might need lest he screw Dani up for life with his complete inadequacy as a parent.

"Let's do that Two Peas store first. It always has those cute baby beds in the window."

Dean followed warily as Jo navigated the crowd.

Two Peas indeed had a beautiful display window. The baby crib was intriguingly round instead of rectangular, and featured a draped gauzy canopy that fell from an ornately carved hook in the ceiling. Dean's eyes bugged when he saw the price tag.

"Holy shit, Jo, I'm a teacher not an investment banker."

Jo elbowed him hard in the side, smiling at the approaching saleslady.

"May I help you?" The woman's silvery blonde chignon sparkled in the soft, ambient light thrown by a topsy-turvy stacked teapot lamp by the entry.

"Yes," Jo began, stepping in front of Dean who was already shaking his head _no_. "My friend is adopting the sweetest baby girl in a few weeks and he has absolutely nothing ready for her."

"Oh dear," chignon lady gasped. "Nothing? No bed?"

Dean shook his head.

"Car seat? Bedding? Changing table?"

With each shake of Dean's head her expression grew more grim.

"You surely must have started buying this precious princess suitable clothing."

"Ahh," Dean shrugged helplessly, quickly reverting to his default setting of handsome and clueless when in unfamiliar feminine-type situations.

"Well, we must start at the beginning then. How old is your baby?" The woman, _Barbra_ her nametag read, withdrew a jeweled pen from her perfectly coiffed updo. Dean hadn't even noticed it tucked in there and he eyed her warily wondering what else she might have hidden in the shiny mountain of hair.

She motioned for Dean and Jo to follow and led the way through the store. Dean was distracted by the vast assortment of merchandise on display; he couldn't fathom how much of this crap could be considered essential. Did a baby really _need_ carved cherub drapery tie-backs or a miniature dressform complete with tulle skirt?

Barbra worked her magic to no avail; Dean was simply too practical (no thanks to Jo who cooed like a deranged pigeon at every pink puff of useless frippery the charming saleslady produced).

That is, until Barbra produced a pair of tiny pink sequined Converse high tops.

Dean's eyes glazed over.

Barbra hid her sigh of relief.

Jo grinned like a loon.

They left the store forty minutes later carrying two large bags stuffed to the brim.

A brief stop at the fresh baked cookie kiosk cleared the fog from Dean's brain. "None of that was on the list, was it," he asked glumly, staring down at the pink, sparkly tissue artistically arranged to pouf majestically from the tops of the shopping bags at his feet.

"Nope," Jo chirped. "And it was _awesome._ I've never seen you so focused in all my life, at least not without your head stuck in a motor."

"What am I going to tell Cas?" He took a vicious bite of his cookie; white chocolate macadamia nut being his weakness. "That I tripped and accidentally bought two hundred and fifty dollars worth of _fashion-forward babywear_," he air quoted. "I was _supposed_ to be buying a crib, Jo."

"Stop bitching, princess," Jo mumbled around the cookie crumbs falling from her mouth.

"You're really disgusting," Dean mused. "I'm shocked no one's snapped that up."

"Fuck you," she said cheerfully. "And I mean that literally." Jo winked lasciviously.

Dean whistled and sucked a mouthful of sugary cola through his straw. "Better be careful Joanna Beth, Cas will take a strip off your hide."

"God, he's intense, right?" She shook her head. "I mean, I get it: commitment, babies, whatever," she grinned. "Still, you'd think he could handle just a little bit of friendly competition."

Dean shrugged. "I'm just that awesome."

Jo cocked one eyebrow. "You _have_ seen him, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Naked. This morning. Twice."

"God, spare me," she rolled her eyes. "No, I mean, he's like, fuck," she breathed. "He's gorgeous Dean. _You_ should be the one all intense and possessive and overprotective of your man and crap. God knows _all_ the women in town want to tap that. And probably half the men."

Dean squirmed in his seat. Not exactly a newsflash, he supposed, if he thought about it. Which he was not especially keen to do. "What do you mean," he asked evenly.

Jo grinned. "Ah, so you _are_ oblivious. What? Did you actually think a fine piece of _single_ ass like that smokes into town, hot off a parachute for God's sake, and no one would notice? Jesus, Dean. He was at the Roadhouse every weekend before you jumped him in the men's room that night. You weren't paying attention, but trust me. The rest of us were."

"He jumped me," Dean muttered. _Why did everyone keep saying that? _"And it doesn't matter what he did before we met." Much.

She studied him. "It doesn't bother you? That he looks the way he looks, spends hours and hours free every week at the fire station while you're at school. Freaking _rescues_ people all heroic and shit. I mean, that's some swoonworthy male goodness right there." She batted her eyes.

Dean narrowed his gaze on hers, fists clenching on his lap. "Back off, Jo," he said through his teeth.

Jo chuckled. "There it is." She hopped up and threw her trash in the bin.

Dean frowned. "There what is?" He crumpled his cup with a tad too much force, startling the elderly woman standing next to the trashcan. He smiled weakly in apology before he tossed in his trash.

Jo picked up one of the bags and passed the other to Dean. "That inherent rage that pours off of Cas whenever I so much as breathe the same airspace as you. I wanted to make sure it was mutual." She practically skipped through the crowd.

Dean stalked behind her catching up just outside of Macy's. "You played me."

"Nooo. I tested you. Totally different."

"Asshole," he muttered. His heart was pounding a little too hard and he had an intense urge to call Cas, see if he was awake yet. Still at home. _Not_ out in public where people could ogle him. _Goddammit. _

Jo patted his arm sympathetically. "You're the one with six pair of baby shoes and a hickey shaped like Idaho, Dean. You can stop growling now."

"Let's just buy the damn carseat so I can go home and do something that requires a fuckton of testosterone."

Jo clapped her hands together in glee. "Ooh, can I help?"

"_Testosterone_, Jo. No girls allowed." He grinned. "Besides. I'm hoping it involves nudity."

"Even better," she crooned.

Dean laughed at her blissed out expression. "You're depraved, Harvelle. Too bad you're such a scrawny runt. If you ever grow some titties we might find you a handsome firefighter of your very own."

"Hey," Jo protested, pushing out her chest. "There's nothing wrong with my tits."

A small group of female shoppers gathered at the entrance of the infant department glanced at the pair and then quickly away. Dean snorted.

"My apologies. You're one C cup away from the stripper pole. Now give me the list." He held out a hand until Jo produced a slip of paper. When he unfolded it, he smirked to find it was a Roadhouse receipt. "Awesome. My daughter's list of _most needed item_s, chicken scratched on the back of somebody's beer tab."

"Just keepin' it real, Winchester," Jo murmured, eyeing a rolling rack of infant sleepers. "Hey, how many sleepers did we buy?"

"Oh no," Dean said, steering her toward the furniture displays. "Focus."

Two hours later, they left the mall exhausted and poorer (at least Dean was poorer, Jo's wallet had made out relatively unscathed), arms laden with packages. Dean had borrowed Sam's truck, and he supervised while the customer service crew loaded three large boxes containing a pristine white baby bed (rectangular, not circular or carriage or castle shaped or anything else that Dean would catch hell for) and matching dresser. And rocker.

And tiny tufted footstool.

Dean didn't know how he was going to explain the footstool. He was hoping Cas would assume it came as a package deal with the other items.

The man in question was dozing on the couch when Dean and Jo came in through the garage. Dean shooed her out the door, clamping a hand over her mouth when she tried to protest; Cas needed his sleep. He had had to tend more than one fire in the middle of the night, before starting one of his own minutes after climbing into bed first thing this morning.

Dean moved quietly around the living room, retrieving the laptop and charger cord, stopping beside the sofa to stare down at the handsome face when he couldn't resist (or stall) any longer. One of Cas' arms was throw behind his head and his jaw was relaxed, forehead smooth. He was wearing Dean's old grey sweatpants, no shirt, feet bare. Dean grinned; he had no idea why Cas had even bothered moving the big green suitcase. He ended up wearing Dean's clothes more often than not.

Dean bit his lip, torn. What he'd most like to do was kneel beside the head of the sofa and kiss him awake, get his hands on the pale gold skin so tantalizingly visible and unadorned and available and the house was quiet and—

Dean swallowed and walked resolutely to the kitchen.

"Christ"_, _he grumbled under his breath as he set the laptop up on the kitchen table. "I'm no better than the desperate housewives and lonely frat boys. And I better damn well never hear Jo say '_get in line' _again because _I saw him first_ and—"

"What are you mumbling about?" Sam flipped open the cabinet door and retrieved a glass before filling it with water from the tap.

Dean scowled, clamping his lips together. "Nothing. Cas." He scrubbed his eyes. Fuck his everfucking life. "_Jo._"

Sam laughed softly. "What'd she do?"

"She pointed out Cas is the at the top of Sioux Falls' Most Eligible Bachelor list."

"And?"

Dean dropped his hands to the laptop, taking his frustrations out on the keys as he pounded out his search term. "_And._ He spends a lot of time roaming around in that goddamn firefighter get up."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "And you're just figuring this out now?"

"Oh God," Dean groaned. "Don't you start."

"What? Cas is a good-looking guy. Great looking, in fact."

"Samuel Winchester, so help me God."

Sam chuckled and sat down across from Dean. "I'm not saying _I'm_ interested, I'm saying why are you surprised that other people are?"

"I'm not!"

Sam raised both eyebrows.

"Because I'm a idiot." Dean sighed, frustrated and long-suffering. He jabbed a finger at Sam. "It wouldn't hurt him to try and tone it down, you know. And to wear some fucking clothes that don't mold to his ass." He slammed the laptop lid closed.

"I guess you could always lock him in your bedroom."

"Don't tempt me," Dean grumbled.

"Of course, he _is_ one of those rescue hero types. He probably knows how to break through doors with his bare hands."

"_Not helping_," Dean said between his teeth.

Sam sipped his water. "Is that hickey shaped like Idaho?"

Dean preened. "Yeah." He tilted his head to the side.

Sam nodded, impressed. "Clear, defined edges. Not too large. Tasteful." He took another drink. "_But,_ can he do Florida."

"Pssh. Piece of cake."

"Did someone say cake?" Cas crossed the kitchen, yawning. He dropped a kiss to the top of Dean's head on his way to the fridge. His chest and abdomen were flushed pink with sleep, the sweatpants hanging perilously low on his sharp hipbones. "I'll take cake. Or pie. Or a cheeseburger." He turned from the bare fridge, disappointed. He grinned at Dean's open-mouthed expression. "What?"

Dean closed his mouth, neck hot. "You should really put some clothes on."

"But it's nearly naked Saturday." Cas scratched absently at his bare stomach.

"And, that's my cue." Sam stood and winked at Dean. "Florida. Don't forget."

"Shut up," Dean muttered. "Go braid your hair or shave your legs."

Cas peered into the bags by the garage door. "What's this?"

"Ahh," Dean jumped up, snatching the glittery tissue-filled sacks. "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing," Cas grinned, advancing.

Dean backed up, bumping the table, Sam's discarded chair skidding across the floor. He waved one of the sacks in Cas' direction. "You just stay over there with your hipbones and your happy trail."

"Uh uh." Cas shook his head.

Dean was against the sink now, both sacks held out at his sides. Cas ignored the bags, mouth falling instead on Dean's neck. He kissed the tan column of his throat, settling his hips against him. "I'm hungry," he whispered.

Dean licked his lips, arms straining under the weight of the bags. "I'm in love with you," he said miserably, eyes squeezed shut.

Cas chuckled against his skin. "Why do I suddenly feel like I should apologize for that?" He slid his hands under Dean's t-shirt, inching it up so he could play with the muscles that quivered along his stomach.

"Because you should, you—" Dean moaned when Cas cut him off, tongue reaching deep within the recesses of his mouth. He dropped the bags to the floor with a thud and yanked Cas hard against him, gasping when they broke apart. "Okay, new rule. You're not allowed out in public anymore."

"No?" Cas calmly peeled Dean's t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor behind him. "That might make my job more difficult when someone's house is burning down." He unbuttoned the top button of Dean's fly. "You sure have a lot of rules," he smirked.

Dean cupped his face, pulling it close so he could kiss him again, pouring all of his frustration and jealousy and fear into it. He slumped back against the sink with a deep sigh. Cas reached up to hold one of the wrists at his jaw.

"What's got into you?"

Dean searched his expression but found only fond amusement and something he thought might be affection lurking deep within those huge blue eyes. "I don't know," he said honestly.

Cas studied him, eyes turning more serious. "Second thoughts?"

Dean shook his head. "No," he exhaled. "No. You know better."

Cas stepped back, leaving Dean's chest too cold. "Come with me," he said, backing away, one hand held out.

Dean started to put the bags on the counter and Cas stopped him. "Bring them. I want to see what you overspent on."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I didn't," he began but clamped his mouth shut at Cas' raised eyebrow. "Much. And I'd like to see you do better. They get you right here." He knocked a fist in the vicinity of his heart as he followed Cas from the kitchen. "That saleslady is a CIA operative on the weekends. I would fucking swear it." He could see Sam's door closed down the hall and wondered if Gabe was sleeping.

Okay, that was _definitely_ a new rule: no more wondering what was happening behind Sammy's bedroom door. _Ew. _

Cas led him into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. He took the bags from Dean and set them on the floor by the bed before crowding against him, making quick work of the rest of Dean's fly. "New rule, Dean," he growled against his mouth.

"Mmm," Dean mumbled, mouth too preoccupied with hot, hot lips and warm, wet tongue.

Cas shoved and Dean tumbled onto the mattress with a breathless laugh. His hips undulated restlessly, jeans dragging low. Cas crawled up Dean's body, nestling between his knees.

"From now on whenever you get blindsided with dumbassery," Cas said, tone hushed and seductive as he licked a long wet stripe up Dean's neck. "You come to me for a reality check. Okay?" The words were punctuated by small bites of suction to his throat.

Dean was writhing by the time Cas hovered over his mouth. "Cas," he breathed.

"Say okay, Dean." His tongue darted out and wet the seam of Dean's mouth.

"Okay, _fuck,_ _Cas,_" Dean moaned, grabbing his face in his hands and trying to force his mouth lower. "Come_ on,_ you beautiful asshole."

Cas chuckled and the warm, moist breath fanning over his mouth was making Dean crazy. He thrust his hips up, gasping when he made contact, Cas' hardness beneath the sweatpants aligning with his own. He rubbed against him ruthlessly, knowing the denim would provide an almost too-harsh sensation. Cas' eyes sparked dark and hot.

"Shockingly, I'm okay with you doing do all the work," he murmured, his grin laced with pure sex.

Dean had found a rhythm by now and his eyes threatened to roll back in his head at the incredible feeling building deep in his gut. "I'd complain but _God_ I don't want to stop." Cas' hips rolled in response and Dean groaned loud and long.

"Then don't," Cas whispered, finally dropping his mouth to attach to Dean's. He sucked the remnants of a moan into his mouth when Dean jerked hard, orgasm crashing through him. Dean tried to keep up the motion of his hips, but couldn't, flushed and hot and weakened. He was overwhelmed with a strong desire to _love_ and he pushed Cas to his back, dragging the sweatpants low and taking him in his mouth to finish him off.

Cas cried out softly, hands fisted in Dean's hair.

_"Fuck,_" he exhaled, stomach rising and falling fast against Dean's cheek.

Dean kissed his navel gently before collapsing beside him.

"New rule," Dean began, lacing their sweaty fingers.

Cas started to laugh, the mattress shaking beneath them. "Shut up," he grinned. "Unless it has something to do with you cleaning up this mess and getting me some new pants."

Dean rolled up, wincing at the uncomfortable wetness of his own. "Mine fared far worse, you know." He scooted off the bed, laughing when Cas sat up and grabbed his hips, yanking the jeans to his knees. He kissed the base of Dean's spine, a tiny love bite. "Careful, Sam already thinks you're some kind of hickey magician."

Cas growled, biting harder into the smooth skin of his hip. "I'd like to mark you all over."

Dean's poor cock twitched and he laughed huskily. "Vampire," he whispered, grabbing Cas' chin and bending to kiss him languidly. He shimmied his hips as Cas worked to tug his pants free. "You're going to kill me."

"But, oh what a way to go," Cas murmured, hands running up and down Dean's bare thighs.

Dean laughed, pushing him back to the bed. "Now stop. I have shoes and frilly panties to show you." He stopped halfway to the dresser, turning back with a grimace. "I can't believe I just said that."

Cas' grin was wide. "It'll be our little secret."

When Dean had everything unpacked and laid out across the bed, Cas glanced at him sideways. "Tell me again why you got the same shoe in three sizes?"

Dean shifted bashfully. "Because her feet will grow really fast and I wasn't sure what size she would need, and," he stumbled to a stop.

Cas surged forward and kissed him. "You're fucking adorable."

"Shut up," Dean huffed, face hot.

Cas fingered one of the tiny shoes. He ignored the way his heart lurched in his chest at the sight of Dean's gentle hands refolding the tiny sleepers. "You _did_ buy the crib, right?"

"_Yes,"_ Dean said defensively. "I'm not completely incompetent. It's in the garage. I thought we could set it up in the corner there, I think there's room."

They both stared at the pile of brightly colored miniature clothing in silence.

"This is happening."

Dean raised one eyebrow. "Well God I hope so, my checking account is weeping."

Cas rolled off the bed. "Maybe this will help." He squatted next to the green suitcase, unzipping one of the outer pockets. Dean strained his neck but couldn't see what he was fiddling with. When he climbed back onto the bed, he pushed Dean to his back, expression calm and steady.

"What are you up to," Dean asked, grinning when Cas straddled his hips.

"Well in a few minutes I'm going to add a new state to your body. Pennsylvania," he winked. "But first, I'm going to give you something a little smaller."

"Smaller than Pennsylvania?" Dean looked disappointed. "What a letdown." His eyes narrowed when Cas tugged at his hand. He felt smooth metal, warm from Cas' palm, as it slid over his knuckle.

The narrow silver band was plain, with a sharp raised edge in the center. Cas rubbed a thumb over it, polishing away a fingerprint before he dropped Dean's hand and waited.

Dean stared at it for a beat. "This is _way_ better than some uppity east coast colony state, Cas."

Cas laughed softly. "Glad you approve."

"Oh I approve," Dean said, voice husky as he leveraged himself up, mashing their chests together and nearly dislodging Cas from his lap. "I approve a whole hell of a lot. I'm from the Good Housekeeping Department of Approval and I'd like to offer you our Seal. "

"Yeah?" Cas toyed with his mouth, ducking away before Dean could get more than a brief press of lips.

Dean carded his fingers through Cas' hair, the ring flashing in the lamplight, catching his eye. "Hold still, the ceremony is brief but effective."

Cas chuckled and let Dean position his head the way he wanted it before he kissed him deep. "I'm sorry it's not official," he whispered.

Dean's fingers tightened against his scalp. "It's official, Cas. Fuck Pennsylvania."

"You mean South Dakota," Cas murmured against his mouth.

"Whatever," Dean whispered, eyes closing as he fell back against the pillows, taking Cas with him.

All six pair of baby shoes ended up on the floor shortly after that.

...

"So, two weeks? In two weeks I'll be Uncle Gabey—"

"She's not calling you that," Sam inserted.

"And I can spoil her and feed her too much candy and—"

"She's six months old. She eats mashed peas and applesauce," Cas said drily from his seat on the living room floor.

Gabe ignored both of them. "And I'll buy her a pony. Dean you've got room for a pony right?"

Dean shrugged, looking at his ring. He still hadn't been brave enough to take it off to see if there was an inscription; although maybe brave was the wrong word. Cas had put the ring on his finger and it might be silly, but Dean didn't want to take it off. "Probably. You're shoveling the horse shit though."

Gabe deflated. "Oh. I'm not good with shit. Maybe a dog then," he brightened.

"No dogs," Cas said firmly. "Not until she's older."

"I've always wanted a lab," Sam said thoughtfully. "A golden retriever."

Dean arched an eyebrow at Cas, a silent message passing between them.

"Oh God, would you _stop_ already? The only expendable body part I've got left is my gallbladder. And you're effectively poisoning it now with your disgusting display of," he waved his hand dramatically. "Invisible married code."

"I didn't say anything," Cas said innocently. He winked at Dean.

Dean chuckled, polishing his ring on his pant leg. "Your gallbladder isn't your last unessential organ. You've still got your, you know." He looked pointedly at Gabe's crotch.

Gabe's mouth fell open. "You're not seriously suggesting I lose my excessively masculine manhood."

"Note how smoothly he inserted excessively masculine," Cas stage whispered.

Dean grinned, wishing like fuck he was kissing him.

"No one's suggesting you lose Little Gabe," Sam said soothingly. "I think Dean was crassly referring to a vasectomy."

"_Little Gabe?"_ Dean snickered. Sam smacked him on the back of the head.

"Ow, Dean. That hurts." Gabe winced exaggeratedly, but Dean was ignoring him, still gazing googly-eyed at Cas. So he decided to play dirty. "Say, how'd Uriel take the baby news? And the perky Ms. Braeden. Holy shit, I'd pay good funds to see her expression when you told her you were having a baby. _With Cas_." Gabe guffawed, then grimaced, clutching his side.

"Would you take it easy before you pop a stitch?" Sam reached behind him for a pillow, tucking it against Gabe's side.

Dean grimaced. "Uriel didn't say much, frowned a lot. Said he was '_disappointed in my lifestyle choices',_ whatever the hell that means."

"And Lisa?" Cas' distaste was evident in his tone.

Dean refused to meet his eyes, instead watching a car chase scene on the TV in front of them. "She and a few other teachers might have shunned me at lunch this week. But other than that, not much. In fact," he cocked his head. "I don't think Lisa's really spoken to me since the day at the zoo."

"That's because you practically passed out at my excessive display of heroism," Cas pointed out helpfully. "It was patently obvious you were hot for me."

"Shut up," Dean muttered. Cas bumped his ankle against Dean's to get his attention before making a swooning motion as if he were going to faint.

Sam snorted.

"Wait a minute," Gabe protested.

The other three waited while Bruce tried hard to avoid dying in the background.

"Does this mean Dean and I have effectively fallen right into their stereotypical gay elementary teacher bullshit? Cause, fuck that. I don't want to be pigeonholed. I'm a free spirit, goddammit."

"You're cranky. Time for a pain pill," Sam said, rolling his wrist over to check the time.

"I'm not gay," Dean said, still studying his ring.

Cas raised his eyebrows.

"Except for your brother," Dean admitted grudgingly.

Gabe snorted. "Well, I'm not gay, I've slept with hundreds of women."

"Um. Gross," Sam complained, socking him in the arm. He wrinkled his nose in faux distaste. "And I'm clearly not gay. I have lines of women at the hospital." He rubbed a palm down his chest. "Fine young doctor like this? _Lines _of women."

Gabe narrowed his eyes and Sam cleared his throat.

"You know. If I wanted them."

"You're definitely part-gay, Sammy. With that hair? Not to mention all the Celine Dion on your iPod," Dean smirked.

"I'm gay." Cas fist bumped the air above his head.

"We know," the other three said in unison.

Bruce blew something up.

"Popcorn," Cas grunted insistently, bumping Dean's ankle again.

"Is a tasty treat, especially with salt and butter." Dean hissed when Sam pinched his back, hard. "Ow, jackass. Thanks for the reminder that you fight like a girl."

"I can also kill you twenty-two ways that are undetectable."

"Jesus _Christ_ that's hot." Gabe fanned himself. "Dean. You and Cas go make the popcorn so your brother can _check my stitches_." He made a graphic motion with his tongue and Dean frowned.

"I think I just lost my appetite."

Cas rolled gracefully to his feet and reached for Dean's hand. "Come to the kitchen with me so I can stick my hands down your pants."

"Oh God, wash before you touch my corn," Gabe called as they left the room. "They're disgustingly cute," he said grudgingly.

Sam chuckled. "They are. I've never seen Dean so happy."

Gabe watched Sam's face thoughtfully. "_You_ don't look so happy though."

Sam shook his head. "What? No, it's not that. I'm happy, I am. For Dean? _This_ is his perfect life; someone that loves him, a family of his own. He was made for this."

"But..."

"But," Sam sighed. He let his head fall against the couch cushions and stared at the ceiling. "I'll just be glad when they're back from Colorado and it's all official and over. Too many things could still go wrong."

"Nothings going to go wrong," Gabe murmured, reaching over to squeeze Sam's bicep. Then he ran his fingers down it, because it was bare. And right there. Aw hell, might as well smooth a palm over his forearm too. It was connected and everything.

Sam grinned at him. "You still with me?"

"Nope," Gabe said cheerfully. "Distracted by the magnificence that is your arm." He squeaked when the arm in question moved suddenly and the hand at the end cupped his jaw.

"You're a good friend, Gabe."

Gabe's eyes narrowed. "To you or Dean?"

"Both," Sam smiled.

"Just a friend?"

Green eyes held hazel for a long minute before Sam exhaled. "I'm not sure anymore."

Gabe felt a twitch of disappointment somewhere deep. "Whatever else we've been, or are, I'm still your friend, Sam," he said quietly.

Sam let his hand fall to Gabe's leg and he massaged his knee. "_Whatever else we are_ is such a mouthful. Can we just say dating?"

The tightness in his gut eased and Gabe sighed in relief. "Since we're currently sharing a bed I think that would suffice. And you're a jackass."

"Me? Why?" Sam's expression was truly surprised.

Gabe punched him hard in the shoulder. "You almost gave me a heart attack, you whiny bitch."

"Ooh, cat fight!" Dean dropped a bowl full of popcorn in Sam's lap, stray kernels spraying across the sofa. "Unless _whiny bitch _is some kind of safe word?"

"Kinky," Cas studied Sam. "And yet, appropriate."

Dean choked on a mouthful of popcorn. "Cas," he wheezed. "I love you, man."

"Laugh it up," Sam muttered under his breath. "I'm going to have noisy sex at three a.m. and then we'll see who's whining."

Gabe leaned over to grab a handful of popcorn and whispered loudly. "I like that plan."

Sam grinned.

Dean didn't hear; he was too busy rearranging Cas beside him on the floor so he could press against him, hip to ankle. They had two more Die Hard's to watch and a bowl of popcorn to eat and somewhere in the middle of that, Sam and Gabe would _surely_ go the fuck to bed so he could peel the ratty old t-shirt and jeans from Cas' body and thank him again for his ring. And his daughter.

But mostly just for being Cas.

Cas wiggled closer and snuck a kiss to Dean's jaw when Sam and Gabe began to argue over plot.

"Wanna trade blowjobs later," he whispered in his ear.

Dean choked again and Sam kneed him in the center of his back. Dean swatted him away. "I don't know why _you_ always get credit for being the romantic one. Clearly you're just a pervert."

Cas smiled. "It's because I'm a suave and handsome fucker." He threw a kernel in his mouth. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question," Gabe asked, perking up.

"Nothing," Dean and Cas said.

"Oh God, it was a proposition wasn't it," Gabe whined. "Here I'll answer it for you: Yes. No please or thank you necessary. Just _let me fuck you silly like a horny spring rabbit_."

"Now that was romantic," Sam drawled.

Dean chuckled and laced greasy fingers with Cas'. "Yes," he whispered when Gabe's attention was on Sam's too-wide shoulders again. He winked at Cas' answering grin. "And the rabbit thing is okay too."

"Good," Cas whispered back. "I'd like to give Texas a shot."

"Jesus fuck," Dean breathed happily. Texas was a big state.

...


	13. Chapter 13

"Stop fidgeting," Cas complained, flipping through channels with the remote.

Dean squirmed beside him on the couch. "I'm not." He crossed an ankle over his knee and then lowered it seconds later. "Do you think I should vacuum again?"

"You'll just stir up the dust."

"There's no dust," Dean grumbled, leaning forward to run a finger along the edge of the coffee table. When he sat back and began to drum out a rhythm on his thigh, Cas tossed the remote onto the shiny oak surface and grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers.

"_Stop._ You're making me nervous."

"You're nervous? I'm about to swallow my tongue."

Cas grinned. "It's just a formality, Dean. They want assurance we're not serial killers before South Dakota accepts the adoption contract."

A social worker was due any minute to conduct their first home interview. Dean had had a crash course in private adoptions, including the complexities of interstate adoption, over the past several days. Cas had tolerated his obsessive googling, and had even tagged along to the public library on several occasions so Dean could read case law, helping sort the heavy legal tomes and providing sticky notes and coffee refills as needed.

Dean had felt more and more secure as he studied, confident and assured of their position and of the whole adoption process. Until he came upon a case in which the birth mother had filed to have the adoption overturned. Dean read, horrified, as the case progressed to the day the birth mother won and her now four-year-old child was returned to her, a virtual stranger, ripped from the arms of the only parents she had ever known.

Dean had parked across from the fire station after the library closed, stomach rolling.

"You weren't sleeping, were you?" He looked up at the lights in the second floor, where the living quarters were located, shifting the cell phone to his right ear.

"No," Cas said, surprised. "Where are you?"

"In the car."

"What's the matter." Cas' voice was immediately concerned. Dean could hear him moving and imagined him crossing the wide room to the sitting area, where there was more privacy.

"Nothing," Dean assured him. "Just wanted to hear you."

"You close?"

"Yeah." Dean relaxed, tension bleeding away. "You could say that."

"You're not sitting out front staring at the windows again, are you?"

Dean grinned. "No," he lied.

"Oh. Well, that's too bad. I was just about to take off my shirt and I was going to walk by since the blinds are up. Give you something to objectify."

"Nevermind, I'm lying!" Dean hurried to amend.

Cas chuckled and his familiar form appeared in one of the rectangles of light. He was wearing a standard issue navy button down and it hung loose and open. "Oh, there you are."

Dean sighed happily. "You could unbutton the top button of your pants. Looks like they might be cutting off your circulation."

"Are you implying that I'm fat?" Cas' fingers raked down his stomach and toyed with the button in question.

Dean bit his lip. "I'm saying if I can't be there to touch you, the least you could do is give me a mental picture to warm our bed."

Cas leaned into the window opening, one arm poised above his head. His body made one lithe, long line in the pale yellow that spilled onto the street.

"You ready to tell me what's the matter?"

"Nope," Dean said. He gripped the phone tight. "I was at the library."

"And the big books got you horny," Cas murmured. "There's my nerdy teacher."

"Shut up," Dean huffed, grinning. Cas had developed a penchant for Dean reading aloud. One night he had slowly undressed them both while Dean recited Paul Revere's Ride. It had been the hottest fucking night of Dean's life.

"Come up," Cas said, voice rough. "Just for a while."

Dean hesitated. He and Sam had grown up in and around this fire station. He knew every firefighter and volunteer, had taught some of their kids and attended backyard barbecues with them. He counted some of them friends, and they all knew about him and Cas. But he wasn't sure they were ready to witness it up close and personal, especially not when he was feeling more than a little needy and Cas' solution to that typically involved some really fantastic diversion techniques.

"Can you meet me in the bay?" Dean was a big fucking chickenshit. He would freely admit it.

"I can do that. Give me a sec to button my pants and I'll meet you downstairs."

"Oh _God,_" Dean moaned, head falling back at the visual. "You're a terrible boyfriend."

Cas chuckled. "I'm hanging up now."

"No! Wait," Dean exhaled. "Don't hang up."

"Okay, but it's a little hard to button everything back up with one hand."

"So leave it. Save me some."

"Are you planning on ravishing me on the front seat of engine number six, Mr. Winchester? Cause I gotta warn you. That violates about seven fire codes."

"Well, I _wasn't_, but now that you've managed to spark that little fantasy, it's definitely going on the list. And how do you know that?"

"The list, huh," Cas laughed softly. "And I might have read up on the subject recently. In case it came up_._" His voice was echoing, hollow, and Dean knew he was in the stairwell. He unhooked his seatbelt and climbed from the car, softly shutting the door and leaning against it to wait.

When Cas appeared out of the shadows, his shirt still hung loose at his sides, but his pants, sadly, were fastened. Dean gave a little wave.

"You gonna stand over there all sex and car or what?" Cas shoved his free hand into a hip pocket, rocking back on his heels. "It's fucking freezing out here."

"I just wanted to see you. Do a little pirouette or something so I can look at your ass. Are those the really tight pants?" Dean crossed his ankles, relaxing against the car door. His heart thudded solidly against his ribs, a painful happiness that he hadn't quite learned what to do with yet.

"The fire pole is right back there, babe. If you want, I can have Rufus blow some music through the intercom, we can really turn this into a show."

"No!" Dean laughed. "Don't ruin my crotch happy with mentions of the man who helped raise me. _Jesus._"

Cas chuckled and held his arms out to his side, spinning around in a slow circular turn.

"Better?"

"Mmm. It's okay. Would have been perfect if you hadn't done up your pants and you'd lose the shirt."

Cas returned his hand to his pocket, one shirttail getting caught on his wrist and splaying open to reveal the cut of his hip. "Just okay, huh? Well, I'm nothing if not a fast learner. Any tips, teacher?"

Dean swallowed. "Maybe. Don't move." He set his phone on the roof of the impala and started across the empty, dark street, steps slow and sure. His eyes never left Cas', who didn't move a muscle, not even to lower the phone until Dean was a mere six inches away.

"You can put the phone away," Dean said gruffly, one hand reaching out to tug the caught shirttail free. He smoothed his hand around Cas' hip, tugging him closer.

"You know, I have a real kink for your authority figure voice," Cas muttered, tucking the phone into his pocket.

Dean scooped the other shirttail aside so he could wrap both hands around Cas' waist. He trailed his hands up his ribcage, smiling when Cas sucked in a quick breath, shivering lightly. "I like being in charge."

"I noticed," Cas exhaled, standing very still and letting Dean touch him. "You going to take charge of my mouth any time soon?"

"Uh uh," Dean shook his head. "And shhhh."

Cas huffed in frustration, stomach clenching when Dean's thumb made small circles over his hipbone. "This is payback for making you sleep naked all last week, isn't it."

"It was cold," Dean murmured, leaning forward to lick his collarbone. "And you were late. Twice."

"So add another blanket," Cas groaned, tilting his head to the side so Dean could suck at the juncture of his shoulder and throat.

Dean chuckled, warm, moist air blowing across his exposed skin. "You're not going to sleep a wink tonight, are you."

"No, you asshole," Cas growled, hands fisting at his sides.

"You can touch me now," Dean said quietly.

Cas yanked him close with one hard pull on his hips and his mouth slammed into Dean's, teeth scraping together. He reached up to hold Dean's head in place when he winced, tongue soothing, apologizing with each soft stroke and dip. He rested his forehead on Dean's, their breaths puffing in white clouds around their chins.

"_Fuck. _You are a very bad person."

Dean grinned. "I think what you mean is you're hot for teacher?"

"I mean I'm going to fucking _pound_ teacher into the mattress tomorrow morning, so _teacher_ better by God be naked as the day he was born when I get home."

"I'll see if I have room in my schedule." He ducked his head when Cas tried to catch his lips. "Sorry to get you all worked up for nothing," he teased.

"Yeah, well, like I said. You're an asshole," Cas repeated, hands forcing Dean's mouth back to his.

Dean sighed when they broke apart. "I better go. Someone'll come looking for you and I don't want to scar poor Rufus at this point in my relationship with the old man. I'm holding out hope he leaves me that 1957 Chevy pickup in his will."

"It's nice how your priorities are all in order. And you're just worried someone will ogle my fine form," Cas smirked, stepping back and holding his hands wide, open shirt leaving entirely too much of said form exposed. And shivering. It really was cold.

Dean frowned. "C'mere and let me button you up."

Cas smiled as Dean's fingers worked the buttons quickly and efficiently into place. "You want to tell me what happened at the library that spooked you?"

Dean looked into his eyes calmly. "How do you do that?"

Cas cocked his head. "Do what?"

"_Know._"

Cas shrugged. "I can feel it." He rubbed his thumb across Dean's lower lip, cupping his jaw. "Right under your skin." He pressed their lips together lightly. "Beneath your hands when you touch me. When something's bothering you, your body wants me to take half of it." He tapped a fingertip on Dean's temple. "Whether your head does or not."

Dean leaned into him, letting himself have one more kiss before he stepped back. "And here I've always been told my head is smarter than the rest of my parts."

"Your head thinks too much."

"You just want my body to be in charge because it can't resist you and you know it," Dean said wryly. "That gives you an unfair advantage." He looked up the dark street, the lights from the lampposts dotting the empty sidewalks every twenty feet. There was a hint of frost in the air, and he wondered if they were about to get their first snow. "I read about a case, where the adoption was overturned."

"I read some of those, too," Cas said quietly.

Dean looked back at him in surprise. "You did?"

Cas shrugged. "I might have obsessively sat in the same chair at the Sioux Falls Public Library for a few weeks before I told you about Dani."

"That's how you've been so _helpful_, knowing just where to find case studies and research," Dean accused. He wasn't angry though; he was touched. Cas had let him work it out on his own, discover the depth of his own desire for this, the limit to his fears. He looked sharply at him. "You didn't worry I'd change my mind? There's some scary shit in those cases."

"And miss out on strip poetry night forever?" Cas pulled him close again, hands soothing across his back under Dean's jacket. He kissed the corner of his mouth, in the same spot a dimple winked out when he pursed his lips. "No way. You're far too hot for me."

"I'm serious," Dean chuckled, protesting half-heartedly. "What if Brittany wants her back?"

Cas sighed, hands tensing on Dean's hips. "She won't. She walked away."

"She might. People have. They do." He closed his eyes, remembering the sadness permeating the last article he had read. "She was four years old, Cas. And they dragged her screaming and crying for her mom and dad, gave her to a stranger."

"That won't happen," Cas whispered, wrapping his arms around him. "This is different. Brittany's rights have been terminated by the state. It's over. She can't come back."

They stood in the dark shadows of the fire station, holding each other. "Have you ever loved something so much it feels like your skin can't hold it all? Like you're going to split open and spill out onto the street," Dean whispered.

Cas nodded, their jaws rasping where the stubble rubbed. "I'm spilling onto the street right now, Dean."

"Me too."

After a moment, Cas sighed and let him go. "You should go home and pick out a nice long poem."

"Strip poetry is Thursday," Dean smiled, letting the conversation and the atmosphere shift back into easier territory. "It's Saturday."

"What's Saturday again?" Cas toyed with Dean's hand, stalling.

"Lately it's been a chance to make Sam and Gabe uncomfortable with our excessive PDA."

"Ahh," Cas nodded. "Movie night."

Dean chuckled, half turning. "See you in the morning?"

"Don't forget," Cas warned with a glint in his eye as he backed away.

Dean flushed, rubbing a hand across his too-hot neck. "Naked as the day I was born. Got it."

"Rest up," Cas winked before he turned and jogged into the dark bay of the fire station.

Dean hadn't gotten much rest that night, but he had had one hell of a nap after Cas was through with him the next morning.

Now, days later, as they sat waiting for the social worker to arrive, Dean was less nervous about losing Dani at some unknown point in the future and more frightened that they'd never be allowed to have her in the first place. He felt open, exposed, like what he and Cas had was still too new to be prodded and poked by a random, bureaucratic stranger.

"I gotta pee," he muttered, standing. He was halfway across the living room when the doorbell rang. He looked at Cas in alarm.

Cas rolled his eyes when Dean stood frozen, not moving to answer it. "I'll get it," he called sarcastically.

Dean hovered behind him as Cas took a deep breath and opened the door.

The stern-faced woman on the stoop studied them, lips pursed for a long moment before she stuck out a hand. "Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester?"

"Yes," Cas smiled his most charming smile and placed his hand in hers.

Dean licked his lips nervously, wincing at her strong grasp when she shook his hand.

"Missouri Moseley," she stated firmly. "Department of Human Services. I will be your liaison for the adoption proceedings." When neither man moved from the doorway she cocked her head. "May I come in or are we doing this on the porch?"

"Oh, yes! Sorry," Cas said, flushing and stumbling over Dean who was still too close.

Missouri crossed the threshold, dark eyes taking in the tidy room. Despite her severe expression, her smooth brown skin glowed in the soft lamplight and Dean thought fleetingly that she would make an excellent teacher. Tough, but kind, unless he was misreading her.

Missouri took a seat on the couch, leaving Dean and Cas each in an overstuffed armchair. It made Dean twitchy; he would handle this a whole lot better if he could touch Cas. She withdrew a file folder and clipboard from her bag.

"Let's start with something easy. This is the permanent residence for you both?"

"Yes." Dean hid his relief. A question he knew.

Missouri clicked her pen and checked a box off at the top of the page, jotting down a note beside it. "I suppose you know where the kitchen is?"

"Ah, yes?" Dean looked at Cas in confusion.

Missouri peered at him over the tops of a pair of wire rimmed reading glasses. "Then fetch me a glass of something wet. I didn't rush my lunch to drive all the way over here and suffer dry mouth."

"Oh, yeah, sure." Dean scrambled to his feet. "Iced tea okay," he asked, paused by the door.

"Sweet or unsweet," Missouri said without looking up. She was writing on the clipboard, words scratching across the page from the tip of her pen.

"Unsweet," Dean grimaced. _Sam and his damn bigotry toward pure cane sugar._

"Then you best bring the sugar pot too."

Dean raised a brow at Cas who shook his head. He returned a few minutes later with two glasses, one filled with ice water and the second with a pale amber liquid. He set a tray holding the glasses, a teaspoon, and a porcelain lidded sugar container on the coffee table along with a small stack of paper napkins.

Cas grinned at the presentation, but Dean ignored him, waiting at the edge of the coffee table until the social worker looked pointedly at his empty chair.

Dean sat.

Missouri took a sip of her tea and added three heaping teaspoons of sugar, stirring vigorously. She smacked her lips when she was satisfied. "Now then. You are the only two living in this residence?" She dove right back into the questions.

"Ahh," Dean looked at Cas frantically.

"Dean's brother is living here, also. While he finishes his residency," Cas said smoothly. "He's a doctor."

"Hmmm," Missouri hummed, unimpressed and drawing a line through something she had written. She wrote something else in its place.

Dean took a deep breath but clamped his mouth shut at Cas' warning look.

"How long have you been together?"

Dean swallowed and looked at Cas again.

Cas frowned.

"You _are_ together, are you not?" Missouri's tone was amused. "Not too many _friends_ go about willy nilly adopting babies. And one of you is wearing a ring."

Dean clenched his left hand into a fist, miserably aware that he had yet to find a ring for Cas.

"We're together," Cas said, voice low and gravelly, the way it got when he was stressed or tired or hungry for Dean.

Dean shifted in his seat. _Goddamn sex voice._ "Six weeks," he offered, wishing it was six months. Or six years. Anything that sounded more respectable than _weeks._

Missouri's eyebrows hit her hairline. "Are you boys crazy?"

Dean scowled. "No. What?"

Cas grimaced. "It sounds shorter than it feels."

"Hey," Dean protested.

"You know what I mean." Cas smiled at him, his first genuine expression since Missouri sat down.

"I've had weaves that lasted longer than you two," Missouri grumbled, furiously scribbling on her clipboard. She pointed her pen at Cas. "So why no ring for you? Are you allergic? Job hazard? Not that kind of relationship?"

"I, uh," Cas looked at Dean, nonplussed.

Dean cringed, neck burning. "I can't find one I like," he muttered.

Missouri bit her cheek.

"I don't actually care what it looks like," Cas offered, as much to Dean as Missouri. "As long as it's from Dean. But I'm not going anywhere, regardless."

Dean flushed a deeper pink, wallowing in the warmth that tightened around the vicinity of his heart.

Missouri noted something on her form. "Let's talk about procedural things. Have you checked into flights? You may need to provide paperwork for the airline to transport Danielle across state lines."

"We're not flying," Dean said at the same time that Cas stated, "Yes."

They looked at each other in surprise.

"Do you always communicate so effectively," Missouri murmured, tapping the pen against her knee.

"I booked the tickets last week," Cas said to Dean, smiling apologetically. "I forgot to tell you?"

"I'm not strapping my daughter down in a steel tube and hurtling her through the sky, Cas. I _don't fly._"

"_Our_ daughter. And you want to drive a baby halfway across the country in a 1967 Chevy Impala." Cas' voice was gentle but he was aware of Missouri's intent gaze.

"I'm pretty sure people had babies in 1967, Cas."

"That's not the point, _Dean._"

Dean glanced at Missouri, who seemed content to observe the exchange. She scooped another teaspoon of sugar into her tea and sat back against the couch cushions.

"We can make a lot of stops. I don't have to be back at work until after Thanksgiving break." _Why_ hadn't he thought to ask how they were getting Dani from there to here? He assumed Cas knew about his abject fear of flying.

"It would be a difficult trip for a small baby," Missouri offered. "Not impossible," she hurried to add. "But tiring. And amidst many other changes in her life."

"I hate flying," Dean insisted quietly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Cas' hand move and he instinctively knew he wanted to reach for Dean. His stomach dipped. "But I can do it," he said on an exhale.

"Dean," Cas murmured. "You don't have to."

"No, I can." Dean swallowed. "It's unnatural," he insisted, eyes fierce as they met Cas' stupidly sweet expression. "But I'll do it. For you. And for Dani."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Missouri cleared her throat. "Well, I'm glad we settled that," she said drily. "Tell me about your parents, Dean."

Dean jerked his eyes from Cas' face and scowled. "Why?"

Missouri simply waited, pen poised.

"They were killed in a house fire," Dean began grudgingly. He met her dark gaze head on. "I was almost eight. My brother Sam was four."

"And after? Were you raised by family," Missouri asked.

Dean noticed that her tone had gentled. He could feel Cas' eyes on him too, could sense his curiosity. They had never talked about Dean's parents, other than a brief explanation of their death.

"My Uncle Bobby." Dean shifted again. He hated these chairs; the padding left much to be desired. They should really buy something more comfortable, maybe something built for two. Or two and a half. "He's not really my uncle, not by blood. He was my dad's best friend."

"And he adopted you?" Her pen flew over the page, making loops and swirls of black ink.

Dean glanced at Cas as if to ask, _What do I say?_

Cas shrugged lightly. _I don't know? The truth?_

"Um, no. We just lived with him. No one ever made a fuss, I guess. Not that I know of."

"Hmmm," Missouri chewed the end of her pen, reading over what she had written. "How did Bobby discipline you when you misbehaved?"

"What do you mean? Did he beat us?" Dean's tone was defensive and Cas did reach for him then, but Dean waved him off. "Bobby Singer never laid a finger on my brother or me. I might have spent my share of Saturday afternoons picking up rocks and I damn sure lost TV privileges more than Sam ever did, but he never hit me. Us. Ever."

Missouri studied him thoughtfully. "And what are your plans for disciplining Danielle when she misbehaves?"

He glanced at Cas. _Damn_. He had no idea what Cas' thoughts were on discipline. He was feeling less sure about this interview by the minute. His head was spinning from the rapid-fire interchange of the savvy social worker's questioning technique.

"Well." He cleared his throat, ignoring the twinkle in Cas' eye. _Bastard._ "In my classroom I've found that setting reasonable limits and age appropriate boundaries goes a long way toward avoiding many meltdowns. Kids like to know what their limits are. Then I pick my battles."

"Hmph." Missouri pursed her lips and began to write.

Cas shot him a thumbs up.

_You're next,_ Dean mouthed.

"Castiel."

"Yes," Cas jumped.

Dean smirked, relaxing now that he was off the hot seat.

"Tell me about your family. You have several siblings."

Cas licked his lips. "Yes, four brothers and a sister."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. _Sister?_

"My parents have been gone for a long time now. The rest of us are pretty scattered, so I don't see them often, but my brother Gabriel lives here and another brother will be here shortly for an extended period of time."

Dean frowned. _ What the hell,_ he asked silently when he caught Cas' eye. _Which one?_

_Lucifer,_ Cas mouthed back.

"Would you like me to step outside so you don't have to lip read?"

Dean smiled guiltily. "Ah, no ma'am. Thank you." He ignored Cas' quiet snort. "Would you like something to eat? I have pie."

"Redirection doesn't work on me, Mr. Winchester," she said peering over the tops of her glasses. "I'm not a five-year-old."

Dean flushed. He hadn't been trying to redirect. _Much._ And he really wanted a piece of pie. It was peach.

"My brother Lucifer is going to be a visiting surgeon at the hospital where Dean's brother is in residency," Cas offered, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "He should be here before Thanksgiving."

"Glad you mentioned that to me," Dean muttered.

"Yeah, I forgot to tell Gabe too," Cas said out of the corner of his mouth.

"You suck," Dean whispered, mollified that Cas wasn't keeping important information from him intentionally.

"You would know," Cas whispered back.

"I can still hear you," Missouri said under her breath. She flipped to the next page on her clipboard. "Castiel, you're a firefighter, correct?" She waited until he nodded confirmation. "And Dean, you will continue to teach school."

Dean nodded, resisting the urge to fidget under her severe gaze.

"Who will be taking care of this baby while the two of you are working?"

Cas shrugged as if to say, _'Take it, this one's yours'_. They _had_ talked about this at least. "Starting next week, I'll be off on paternity leave until December, although technically I can take up through the new year, if I need it. We're hoping to start interviewing daycares in the next few days."

"Although I'd prefer someone keep Dani here, in our home." Cas' voice was quiet and firm and Dean didn't know why it did such magnificent things to his stomach, but it did, and he swallowed down an irrationally strong desire to kiss him.

"More difficult to find," Missouri murmured. "But probably better for Dani, at least at first." The next several questions were routine; things about safety in the home and logistical details such as Cas' schedule at the fire station. She seemed amused that Dean wasn't worried about caring for a small baby alone overnight at least half the week.

"Plenty of women do it, every day," Dean protested when Missouri looked at him skeptically after he asserted he was prepared for the '_single parent'_ aspect of raising a baby with a firefighter.

"True, but you have barely made it through this interview without having a nervous breakdown, so you'll have to forgive me if I question your tenacity."

"I'm _fine,_" Dean protested hotly, but his neck was red, and the tips of his ears burned.

"Tell me about the last fight the two of you had, and how you resolved it."

Dean sat up straight. Oh she was sneaky, all right. "We don't fight."

"Dean prepared a picnic basket for a fundraiser that he has traditionally used to procure dates. It pissed me off so I bought it."

Missouri's lips twitched.

Dean scowled. "I wasn't trying to procure _dates_," he muttered. "It was strictly a _fundraiser._"

"You bought the basket and then what happened." Missouri continued to calmly write in a wide box on her form.

"I ate it," Cas said, grinning. She looked at him with a no nonsense expression and his smile faltered. "And then we made up," he finished weakly.

Missouri waited, but Dean had nothing to add so he merely smiled and nodded. _Yup. That was what happened_.

"So the _only_ disagreement you've had in the _entire_ six weeks you've been together," Missouri began, drawing _entire_ out into multiple syllables. "Was over a basket of food that Mr. Winchester freely admits was a lure for prospective partners."

"I did not _freely admit_ any such thing," Dean argued, miffed. "_Cas_ is the only partner here. I mean, with me. I mean, _we're _partners. And there was no fight either," he finished lamely. "I wanted Cas to have my basket."

"Drug time!" Gabe's voice sing-songed through the house and Dean cringed.

Gabe drew up short when he stepped into the living room and encountered Missouri's stony expression.

"Oh shit."

Cas sighed. "Gabriel Goodwin, my brother," he said by way of introduction.

"Does Mr. Goodwin have a drug problem?" Missouri flipped back to the first page of her clipboard and made another note near the top.

"No!" Dean and Gabe protested at the same time. Missouri looked to Cas for clarification.

"Gabe just had his appendix out. He's recovering here for a few days."

"I have a house," Gabe was quick to point out. "Across town. I'm not here much at all. Except for movie nights. I date Sam." He grinned proudly.

Missouri's head swiveled back to Cas.

Dean covered his eyes with his hand.

"Sam is Dean's brother," Cas reminded her weakly.

Missouri stared at the three of them for a beat and then calmly drew a big 'X' through an entire paragraph and added an arrow to the back of the sheet. She then proceeded to write a new narrative.

"Well, if you're done with me I'm just going to go back to bed," Gabe said, easing out of the living room. He mouthed _I'm sorry,_ to Dean, who waved him off with a glare.

"Look," Missouri began, setting the clipboard on the couch beside her. "You're both clearly enamored of one another."

Dean flushed, unsure if he was okay with being so easily read.

"But." The social worker tapped her fingers together on her lap. "I'm not convinced you have any idea what you're getting into. Two single men," she held up a hand at Cas' black look. "Who are certainly devoted to each other _now_, but have no inkling of the trials of being in a long-term relationship, much less as parents. You do realize parenthood is forever."

"Of course," Cas said, frustrated. "And yeah, maybe I haven't been in a long-term relationship before, maybe this thing with Dean _is_ the longest I've ever been with anyone. And sure, I thought about running about two hundred times a day up until a few weeks ago." He glanced at Dean in apology. _Sorry, babe._ "But I'm in love with him. And I love Dani. I'm willing to work for all the rest."

Dean watched Cas as he spoke, the sincerity of the words evident in his face and he felt a spurt of pride and affection, tempered a little by the admission of Cas' fear, but no less unqualified. He cleared his throat.

"Cas and I are aware that we're doing things all kinds of fucked up," he added.

"Dean," Cas admonished, chuckling in surprise.

"No, we are," Dean insisted. "Look, we got drunk and had a one night stand, okay?" Missouri didn't so much as blink, so Dean continued, encouraged. "Then he was a royally smug _asshole_ about it, and we wasted a week or so waiting for his ego to deflate to normal human size."

"Hey!"

"Then, we spent the majority of the rest of the time screwing around," Dean said, throwing his hands in the air. "Clearly we're still in the '_honeymoon phase'_," he air quoted. His expression was earnest when he leaned forward on the chair. "But I've waited my entire life to meet someone I could see myself growing old with, to start a family, for it to _feel_ right. That's what I have with Cas," he finished quietly. "I've never felt that before, but I feel it now."

"Dean," Cas exhaled a long breath, eyes large and soft. "I love you, you stupid fuck."

Missouri sighed and picked up her clipboard. "I'm probably going to regret this," she muttered, scratching her signature across a line at the bottom of her forms. "But congratulations. You're having a baby."

Dean's grin nearly split his face. He didn't dare look at Cas because he didn't trust the hot wetness behind his eyelids.

"I'm not going to recommend parenting classes, because obviously you already have the degree required to teach them." She looked at Dean pointedly. "And you," she said to Cas. "The foster mother in Colorado reports that you have shown remarkable ease in caring for the baby. And you'll have Dean to help you. We'll go from there for now."

Cas nodded, tongue tied and happy.

"I'll take a piece of that pie now," Missouri said, tucking her paperwork into her bag.

Dean scrambled to his feet.

Gabe poked his head around the doorway. "Does that mean I can come out now?"

Missouri began to laugh, a soft chuckle at first, gathering steam until Cas and Gabe joined her, laughter ringing throughout the house.

Dean shook his head at the three of them. "I'm almost one hundred percent done with all of you."

The front door opened and Sam swung inside. "Did I miss it?" Missouri, Gabe and Cas laughed harder. Sam looked at Dean, perplexed.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ignore them and help me serve the pie."

They sat around the kitchen table, eating in contented silence. Missouri glanced at Dean from the corner of her eye.

"This is good pie, Mr. Winchester."

"Cas made it," Dean mumbled around his mouthful of flaky crust.

She looked at Cas with respect. "You bake."

Cas winked. "Gotta take care of my man."

Sam choked and Gabe slid him a glass of water.

"So, Missouri," Sam began hesitantly. He wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

"Is he always so refined," she asked Dean. "And you share the same parentage?"

"Shut up," Dean grumbled, frowning.

Sam grinned. "Anyway. What happens next? They pick Dani up and it's happily ever after?" His skepticism was evident in his tone.

"Why can't it be that easy," Dean asked, fork poised above his plate. "I'm guessing if Cas was a woman, it would _be that easy._"

"Well first of all," Cas interrupted. "In this relationship, clearly _you_ are the woman."

"No I'm not," Dean replied heatedly.

"Boys." Missouri's firm tone nipped the argument in the bud. "Since neither of you _are_ a woman, and if you are then we need to start the interview over again because that's a whole other set of paperwork, Dean's question is moot." She nodded at Sam. "But Sam's question I can answer. Next, you pick up Dani and appear before the family court in Mesa County. As a private adoption, the process will take approximately six weeks, maybe longer. You're dealing with two family courts and potentially several judges at this point."

"But it will go through, right?" Dean's eyes were pinched, the green bright with worry. Cas laid a hand on his knee under the table.

Missouri met his gaze unflinchingly. "It'll go through. The only hold up on South Dakota's end may be the luck of the draw as far as your judge is concerned. Judge Anthony Lawrence is a rank homophobe." She didn't mince words. "But, he doesn't usually sit in family court. And this is a private adoption, from out of state. He really has no bearing on the final decision even if he wanted to deny the petition."

Dean relaxed and covered Cas' hand with his own. "That's good."

Missouri stood, and the men stood with her. She shook hands with Gabe and Sam before leaving the kitchen. Dean held her bag while Cas helped her into her coat.

"I will be required to make spot visits over the next several weeks until the adoption is final. Some will be announced," she said, pointing an index finger at them in warning. "Some won't."

"Perfect, fine," Dean said, shoving his hands in his pockets so he didn't grab Cas in a bawdy, dirty hug. That involved tongue.

"Thank you, Missouri," Cas said, voice deep and grateful.

They walked her to the door and she paused on the threshold before leaving. "Mr. Winchester, you should buy this boy a ring." She inclined her head sternly and Dean grinned.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mr. Novak, I would like the recipe for your pie," she winked, brown eyes sparkling.

"You got it, Missouri," Cas grinned. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek spontaneously and she grinned, flustered.

"Get off me, you devil."

When the door closed behind her, Cas shoved Dean against it, ripping his button down open with a furious twist of his fists, buttons pinging off the walls and tile. His lips found Dean's unerringly and he kissed him long and deep.

Dean chuckled into his mouth when he heard a voice from the porch.

"For the love of Pete, I haven't even left the damn stoop_._"

"Still here, guys," Sam called from the kitchen.

Cas sucked lovingly on Dean's neck, humming contentedly. "Tell them all to fuck off, would you," he murmured.

"Fuck off," Dean tried to say, but the words broke on a moan. He grinned when he heard Sam's bedroom door slam a few seconds later. "Done."

"Perfect," Cas said against his mouth.

Dean would have agreed, but his lips were otherwise engaged.

...


	14. Chapter 14

_**Author's Note: **A million and one fluffy thank you's for all the comments and reviews. Seriously, you're awesome and I love you for enjoying this story. _

_..._

Dean approached his workbench at the garage with a cautious expression. He had some time to kill, with Cas on his last shift at the station and their bags already packed for their flight. He had been making himself crazy rattling around the house all alone, and nothing sounded quite so soothing as burying his head and hands in a cranky engine.

Now he was trying to puzzle out what the heck he was looking at. He could sense Bobby and Ash waiting for a reaction. His toolbox had a fat, pink, latex balloon tied to the handle, and there were pink and white crepe paper streamers hanging limply from corner to corner across the front of the bench. A honeycombed tissue umbrella was perched jauntily to the side, next to a present with a terrifically bad wrapping job.

It was kind of pathetic. And sweet.

Dean glanced at Ash, who was rocking back and forth on his heels like a ten-year-old girl, all wiggly excitement.

"What's this?"

Bobby cleared his throat, wiping his hands on a rag. 'This will probably be your last time under the hood for a while," he said gruffly.

"You throwin' me a party, Bobby," Dean asked, amused. His smile widened when the old man's cheeks pinked and his jaw tightened.

"No!"

"Yes," Ash crowed, drowning out Bobby's protest. "It's a baby shower. It's a girl!"

Dean ducked as Ash threw the handful of confetti he'd been hiding behind his back. A draft blew several bits into Ash's mouth and he sputtered, blinking rapidly.

"You're cleaning that up," Bobby grunted.

Dean grinned, heart swelling about three sizes too big for his chest. "I'm touched, Bobby. Really."

"Oh shut the hell up and open your present so we can get back to work." Bobby rolled his eyes, shoving Ash who was still dancing a jig beside him. "Time is money, dickwads."

Dean picked up the present and shook it gently, but no sound emerged. He started to peel back the tape, feeling awkward with the two sets of eyes on him.

"It ain't a bomb, son," Bobby said drily, shifting uncomfortably. It made Dean even more curious about what the packaged contained. What would a grouchy old mechanic deem suitable for a baby gift?

"It was Bobby's idea," Ash volunteered. "The party."

"No it wasn't!" Bobby shoved him again and Ash staggered across the floor, scattering pastel confetti into old slicks of oil and grime.

"Was too," Ash insisted, ducking under Bobby's raised arm and sidling up next to Dean. "Hurry up, big daddy."

Dean ripped the paper free and shoved it in Ash's face. Under the lid, the plain white box was packed with balled up newspaper. As he tossed the pieces onto the bench, he caught a glimpse of gold and glass.

It was a small rectangular frame. He gingerly lifted it from the box and found his parents staring back at him. He blinked rapidly.

"Dammit Bobby," he said under his breath, swiping at his eyes.

"Took that photo myself, down at the lake the year you were born."

John and Mary Winchester, entirely too young and smiling happily, were backlit by a fading summer sun sparkling on the water.

"I've never seen this," Dean murmured, lightly touching his mother's face.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Forgot I had it. It was in a box of," he stopped and looked away for a moment. "A box of things from when you and Sam were little." He gestured to the box. "There's somethin' else in there too."

Dean bit his lip hard, hoping the sting would alleviate the pressure behind his eyes, overwhelmed by the sharp ache of nostalgia and a flood of bittersweet memories. He carefully set the frame beside his toolbox and peered inside the half-empty box. He could see a bright orange corner under the remaining newspaper, and pulled it free.

"Hey," he said, grinning. "_Green Eggs and Ham_!"

"That was your favorite when you were about four or five," Bobby said gruffly. "You left it here, before." He didn't mention before what; Dean already understood. "Thought you might like it back. Now that you've got use for it again."

Dean flipped open the cover to find crayoned stick figures of himself and Sam, along with flowers, a precariously tilted skyscraper (complete with flames), and what he thought might be a helicopter. Or a pterodactyl. It was hard to tell.

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said, voice rough. He didn't trust himself to look at the old man, or Ash, who was still hovering.

"Let's eat the damn pie before I grow lady parts," Bobby growled and stalked across the oily concrete floor to the breakroom.

"Pie," Dean asked happily, reading the opening lines of the storybook.

"What's a baby shower without pie," Ash nodded conclusively, long hair flipping forward over his shoulder.

"I wouldn't know, I've never been to one."

"Me neither," Bobby asserted, plopping down shiny pink plates and plastic forks. He held a beautiful, golden-crusted pie in his other hand.

"That looks like Ellen's apple." Dean breathed the cinnamon fruity scent, sighing in contentment.

Bobby grunted and sliced three generous pieces, passing two to Dean and Ash.

"I been to a baby shower," Ash offered around a mouthful of juicy apple slices. "There were little mints. And they wrapped each other up in toilet paper."

Bobby and Dean stared at him skeptically.

"What," Ash asked. "Swear to Zeus." He twirled his finger in a circle above his crotch. "Something about hours of labor or number of stitches, or some hoodoo."

Bobby blanched. "Jesus Christ."

"And then we played this game where you wrote all the words you could make outta the letters from the baby's name," Ash shoveled in his last bite and stood to toss his plate and fork in a nearby trashcan. "I was winnin', fair and square, and some beyotch in a straw hat accused me of cheating."

Dean snorted. "You set her straight, Ash?" Ash' vocabulary was legendary; there was more than meets the eye to the skinny mechanic than a mullet and a fierce love of Ann Wilson.

"Nah, I let her have it. There was a prize and everything."

Dean whistled. "A prize?" He kicked at Bobby's foot. "You get prizes, Bobby? I can go get the toilet paper."

"Spoiled brat," Bobby muttered. "I should have beat you when you were young."

"What was the prize," Dean asked, curious. He forked in another bite of sweet, flaky crust. God_damn_ Ellen could make apple pie. All it was missing was a scoop of vanilla ice cream and it would be an orgasm in his mouth. He grinned at the filthy image _that_ thought provoked.

"Aw, it turned out you didn't even get to keep the prize, it was just more gifts for the mama."

"No shit?" Dean frowned. He looked at Bobby who shrugged.

"Women."

Dean and Ash nodded in tandem. _Women._

Bobby and Dean chewed companionably while Ash raked a wide shop broom across the floor.

"Good pie."

Bobby grunted in agreement. His plastic fork scraped the last of the apple and cinnamon from his plate. "Back to work," he growled.

"Bobby, wait," Dean said, scraping a napkin across his mouth.

"Aw, Jesus, you're not gonna get all emotional and weepy are you? I just ate."

Dean chuckled, slapping a hand on the old man's shoulder. "No. I just wanted to say thank you." His eyes grew serious as the smell of the shop surrounded him, blanketing him in memories of summers spent emptying oil drip pans and floating on fat, black innertubes in the creek out back. Of digging up worms and learning to bait his own hook, and playing hide and seek behind the old junkers in the field.

He squeezed Bobby's shoulder. "For everything."

Bobby nodded once. "I'll miss you around here on Saturdays, boy."

"Group hug," Ash murmured, trying to corral the other two inside the circle of his scrawny arms.

"Get off me, you mangy runt," Bobby groused, shrugging Ash aside.

"Am I interrupting?" The voice was smooth if a bit wry, and tinged with a British accent. "I was hoping to procure a lube."

Bobby jumped away from the other two and coughed loudly.

Ash chuckled. "Well you've come to the right place, compadre," he winked. "Bobby here can fix all your lube problems, Mr. Crowley."

"_Ash._" Bobby's voice was choked and Dean would swear his cheeks were ruddier than normal.

Crowley cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the party decorations and the half-eaten pie. "Of course if you're too busy... Mr. Singer?"

"No," Bobby grumbled. "_Goddammit_." He stalked past Dean and Ash to Crowley's car, parked in the sun just beyond the bay opening.

Crowley looked back at the two men left behind. "I seem to warrant the boss' presence. Pleasure, boys."

"Pleasure's all mine," Ash crooned.

Dean elbowed him, biting his lip.

Crowley dutifully climbed into the front seat and rattled off the mileage, Bobby refusing to meet his eyes as he jotted it down on the notepad he kept stuffed in his back pocket.

Dean grinned when Bobby leaned into the open window to double-check the mileage himself and Crowley made no attempt to give him more room, wicked grin on his face. Apparently Bobby's mancrush went both ways.

The bright red of a fire engine caught his eye when it nosed into the parking lot, and Dean smiled as a familiar, lean silhouette appeared in the bay.

"Hey," he said in surprise. "What are you doing here? No cats to rescue today?"

Cas grinned at the remnants of the party, gesturing with one hand. "What's all this?"

"Waiting room's empty. Want me to skedaddle?" Ash wagged his eyebrows.

Dean blushed hard. "What? No!"

Cas laughed at his discomfort, stepping too far into his personal space to be interpreted as anything less than possession. "I do have a few minutes before I have to be back," he grinned suggestively.

"Stop that," Dean swatted his hands away from his hips, glancing to where Bobby and Crowley were perched under a raised hood. "And I don't know what you're talking about." He jabbed a finger in Ash's direction.

"Sure you don't," Ash winked. He turned and sauntered toward the office, tossing his hair. "Who do you think polished your butt print off the tile that morning," he called over his shoulder.

Dean's mouth worked and his face flushed hot. "Fuck me," he muttered, scowling at Cas' wide smile. "And stop looking so smug."

"What?" Cas' face was entirely too innocent and Dean groaned.

"I'm going to go crazy tonight waiting for you to get home." He glanced at Bobby again, and finding him still occupied with Mr. Crowley (was that a _smile _on the old fart's face), looped one finger in Cas' belt loop, tugging him close.

Cas hummed when Dean's mouth closed over his. "Mmm, I missed you this morning."

Dean chuckled, setting him aside again. "You saw me this morning, douchebag."

"Did I? I thought that was my other boyfriend."

Dean rolled his eyes and tapped his index finger against Cas' chin. "Still not funny."

Cas kissed the finger and eyeballed the pie. "Want to cut me a sliver of that for the road," he asked hopefully. His eyes softened when they fell on the photo. "What's this?" He picked it up, studying the couple in the picture.

"My folks," Dean said, swallowing back another rush of emotion. _Jesus_. Bobby was right. He could almost feel the makings of a uterus.

Cas set the frame on the table and picked up the book, smiling in surprise. "Hey, this was my favorite."

Dean huffed, shaking his head. "I'm shocked."

Cas cocked his head. "Why?"

"No, I'm not, I was being sarcastic," Dean grinned. "How we ever managed to end up together, I have no idea." He pulled Cas close again, the bright orange book wedged between their bellies. "But _fuck_ I'm glad we did."

Cas accepted the kiss he offered before he pushed Dean away. "You're treading a fine line there, mister," he said under his breath, swiping a thumb across Dean's bottom lip. "I'm on duty."

"Yeah?" Dean advanced a step and Cas retreated with a warning glint in his eye.

"Yeah. You just stay over there by your tool chest and your pink balloon," Cas warned. "I'm going to go drive the big fire truck now."

Dean chuckled. "Spoil sport." He took the book from him when Cas turned to go. "Hey, wait. Take some pie."

"Save it," Cas winked. "I'll eat it in bed when I get home tomorrow morning."

Dean watched his firm backside stroll across the parking lot and frowned. "That's not how it'll happen, and you _know_ it," he muttered. "I'll end up sticky and hot and eight kinds of frustrated, and—" He jumped when Ash' hand clamped down on his neck.

"That is one sexy motherfucker."

Dean huffed a laugh and shrugged his hand off. "I'm buying you a bell."

"You keep sayin' that," Ash said. "But I can't be tamed."

Dean snorted.

"Wanna help me tear down that old Dodge engine over yonder?" Ash pointed at a faded blue 1946 pickup truck.

"Fuck yeah," Dean said enthusiastically, slapping his hands together in glee.

Ash led the way. "I mean, it ain't a tight ass in fireman's pants, but I do what I can."

"Ash, shut up," Dean grinned. He happily eyed the old truck and flexed his fingers. Pie, motor oil, and a surprise visit from the object of his every fantasy? Dean's days didn't get much better than that.

...

Dean was gripping the armrest so tightly his knuckles were white. The plane lurched as it began to back up on the tarmac. Cas glanced at him.

"How're you holding up?"

"Fine, fine," Dean said, licking his lips. He really wished he had shut the window screen, but he couldn't seem to let go of the armrest in order to do so now. Maybe he would just close his eyes instead.

He felt soft lips brush his temple.

"You know what I thought the first moment I saw you," Cas asked softly. "Not in the shop. In the shop all I thought was _'Goddamn, I'd like to have a piece of that."_

Dean exhaled on a laugh, eyes still screwed shut. The plane was making a turn now and he imagined it lining up on the runway. _Fuck_.

"No, I mean in the Roadhouse. Did you know I followed you into the bathroom? I was sitting at the bar, watching you and Sam and Jo, trying to screw up the courage to walk over and talk to you."

Dean blinked. "No you weren't," he protested disbelievingly. The plane lurched forward and he sucked in a breath, slamming his eyes shut again.

"Scout's honor." Cas pried one of his hands free and laced their fingers. "You were so fucking adorable laughing until you cried at one point, flirting with Jo—"

"I don't flirt with Jo," Dean inserted.

"Hell, flirting with _Sam—"_

"Jesus _Christ._"

"So for a while I drowned my sorrows in tequila, thinking you were taken and cursing whatever god had dangled you in front of me."

Dean smiled. "You were hot for my bod, huh."

"I was something," Cas murmured. "Then Sam fell all over some girl and it was like the heavens decided to shine down on me after all. That's when you had to take a leak. So I followed you."

"Pervert," Dean snorted.

"Up close," Cas exhaled against his ear and Dean squirmed. "Up close you were ten times more gorgeous than I remembered from the garage. And you smelled like sex itself."

"I smelled like a brewery," Dean pointed out. The plane's wheels lifted and his stomach dropped at the sensation of empty air between the plane and the ground. He gripped Cas' hand tighter.

"Under _that_ you smelled like everything I ever wanted to eat, plus Christmas morning and birthday cake, all rolled into one." He lightly touched the tip of his tongue to Dean's cheekbone. "Mmm, I can still see you. Big green eyes glassy. Drunk."

Dean grinned. "You old romantic, you." The plane climbed in altitude and his ears popped. "Ow."

Cas' lips still hovered just off his cheek and Dean leaned into them, enjoying the kiss brushing against his skin. He exhaled long and deep and opened his eyes. He was flying.

"I would have fucked you in the corner by the paper towels if you had seemed even the slightest bit experienced," Cas growled.

"Hey," Dean laughed. "I was experienced."

Cas gave him a wry look.

"With _sex,_" Dean insisted in a quiet whisper, glancing around at the passengers in the opposite aisle. They were both engrossed in their books.

"You were a babe," Cas sighed, remembering. He tilted his head, expression fond. "You good?"

Dean smiled. "I'm good." He squeezed Cas' fingers again. "Thanks."

Cas settled back in his seat, tucking Dean's hand close to his hip. "On the way home I'll tell you about the first time I sucked you off."

Dean was peering into the pocket of the seat in front of him and at Cas' words he jerked, bumping into the seat hard. "Sorry," he muttered to the couple in front of them.

"Stop that," he hissed in Cas' ear when he leaned back. "I'm fine."

Cas grinned. "Liar."

Dean might have scooted close enough to Cas' shoulder to be construed as cuddling. "Okay," he whispered. "I might need you to tell me another story on takeoff. But just to assuage my curiosity." He nodded decisively. Never in a million years would he have dreamed he was looking forward to a _flight_.

"We'll have Dani on takeoff," Cas murmured happily.

Dean grinned. _Oh yeah. _ Maybe sexy storytime would have to wait until they were alone, then.

It would be worth it. Dean wiggled in his seat, nerves jumping excitedly. He couldn't wait to meet his baby girl.

...

Dani was gorgeous.

While Molly fetched the baby from her crib, Dean and Cas waited on the couch and Dean thought that he had never been so close to dying from anticipation. And that included every time he'd been in bed with Cas.

Molly appeared in the doorway, a tiny bundle of pink on her arm, a dark head resting on her shoulder. The baby sleepily rubbed her nose with a fist. Dean felt bad for waking her. Almost. His stomach was jumping so hard he hoped he didn't throw up.

Molly turned her around and the baby spotted the visitors on the couch. She stared at Cas for a long moment as if she were trying to suss out just how she knew his face before looking at Dean in suspicion. Cas stood and reached for her and Dean followed, hovering at his elbow.

"Hey Dani," Cas said softly, kissing her downy head. The baby studied her fingers shyly before batting her eyes at him. Cas grinned. "You big flirt." He shifted her to the other arm so that she was facing Dean. "Meet your daddy, baby girl."

Brown eyes studied green. Dean reached out to stick a finger in her palm and she held it for a moment before dropping it, leaning her face into Cas' chest.

"Are you pretending you're shy," Cas asked softly. He jostled the baby. "That's not the girl I know."

"She's starting to notice who is a stranger," Molly said. She sighed contentedly. _This_ was the best day. She loved days like today.

Dean swallowed against the tightness in his throat. The baby's cheeks were plump and rosy and her dark eyes were latched onto his with a fierce concentration. Her fine, dark hair was swooped into a curl on top of her head and Molly had inserted the tiniest pink bow he had ever seen. He reached for her, gingerly pulling her from Cas' arms. "I really need to hold you," he murmured.

Cas smiled at Molly, raising his eyebrows as if to say, '_What do you think?'_

Molly winked. She thought Dean was damn near perfect. He and Cas had the living room buzzing with a chemical energy she had only personally witnessed a time or two before. They were polar forces and you couldn't help but get caught up in their magnetism.

Up close, Dean thought Dani was even more striking. Her skin held the faintest olive tinge that told him she would have the most beautiful of complexions as she grew. Her lashes were long and thick where they hovered on her cheek when she looked down. She scrunched up her face when he kissed her sweet-smelling cheek, and he wondered if his stubble tickled. She began to fuss and twisted slightly, one pudgy hand reaching for Cas.

Cas smiled apologetically, taking her from Dean. "She thinks this daddy is more handsome," he teased.

"She'll learn the error of her ways," Dean retorted, reluctantly letting the baby be pulled from his arms. He would have plenty of time to snuggle her. _All_ the time, in fact. Forever.

Molly fixed a light lunch and they ate around the kitchen table, Dani in her highchair, still warily watching Dean, refusing the small bites of bread he offered. She welcomed Cas' attentions immediately, some sense memory perhaps telling her he was _home_ and _love._

Dean recognized it as a common stage of development, the stranger anxiety, but he felt a twinge of sadness that their first experience as father and daughter had to include it. He was confident he would win her over and she'd warm up to him, though. All babies did.

All babies except Dani, it would seem.

Molly had invited them to stay in her guest bedroom for the next few days until their court appearance, so they could spend time with Dani and acclimate her to the coming changes in her life.

As it got later, Dean tried three different times to feed and rock the baby. Each time, Dani's little figure would tense in his arms as she studied him, realizing she didn't know him after all, and then she would crane her head, searching for Cas or Molly. Dean finally gave up and sat close by while Cas fed her and put her to bed. Dean bent over the head of the crib, unable to resist patting her round tummy as she slept.

"She's a stubborn little thing," Cas whispered, watching the baby's chest rise and fall with each breath.

"She'll warm up," Dean replied, straightening and surprising Cas when he pulled him close and kissed him softly. "I love you."

"I love you too," Cas grinned. "_God_, I'm happy right now."

"Weird, huh?"

"Yeah," Cas whispered. "Let's go make out."

Dean chuckled. "Okay."

...

Family court was a bit anticlimactic, if Dean were honest. He wasn't expecting anti-gay picket lines or anything, but he sure didn't anticipate the whole process to go as smoothly as it did. The judge didn't bat an eye when the lawyer introduced their petition. He briefly held Dani on his lap, which she tolerated only until Cas smiled down at her and then she began to fuss.

Dean would think she was tormenting him on purpose, except that was a ridiculous notion. Probably. The more she resisted, the more he wanted to snuggle and sooth, hold her close, but the baby was simply having none of it. So far he had had to reserve his cuddles and kisses for when she was sleeping, because awake, she cried and fussed and in general made him feel like a big, scary jerk.

She would smile that big, dimpled grin at Cas, flashing two tiny lower teeth, and Dean's heart would melt vicariously. Cas laughed at his frustration.

"She just remembers me, Dean."

"It's been _two days._"

"You do realize you're probably making it worse now because you're tensed up over it."

Dean huffed. "I want to snuggle her," he grumbled. The _her_ in question was dozing on Cas' shoulder, having squirmed out of Dean's grasp while they waited for their case to be called. She was wearing the shoes Dean had bought her and the pink sequins flashed in the overhead fluorescents.

"You'll have every day of the rest of her life to snuggle her," Cas said out of the corner of his mouth. "Until she's a teenager. I don't think they snuggle."

Dean sat back, dejected. He dug in the backpack for a stick of gum to take his mind off the proceedings. And the unfairness of having a boyfriend with ultimate charisma.

The judge asked questions about residency and occupation, things Missouri had already prepped them for.

And that was that. It was over.

They were parents.

Dean felt a little woozy as they stepped into the bright afternoon sun.

"I," he swallowed. "I don't know what I thought was going to happen. But that was surreal."

"Yeah," Cas breathed. He passed the sleeping baby to Dean who took her gladly, tucking her head into his neck and kissing her delicate skin. "I'm a dad."

"And a husband," Dean winked. "Sort of," he shrugged, grinning.

Cas narrowed his eyes. "I don't seem to be wearing a ring."

Dean flushed, rolling his eyes. "I still haven't found one," he muttered.

"I'm going to start using a bread twist tie if you don't get a move on," Cas said. "Make you look bad to all the other husbands." He reached over to smooth a hand down Dani's back, tugging her little sweater down where it had rode up on her back. "Let's go home."

Dean smiled. _Home._ "I like the sound of that."

In the same calm and uneventful manner of the court proceedings, boarding the plane with their new addition was likewise easier than Dean would have imagined. Dani tolerated his bouncing her on his knee for about five minutes before her lips curled in a pout and she tugged at Cas' wrist.

"You're giving me a complex, baby girl," Dean said with a sigh.

Cas laughed. "How do you know we didn't coordinate this to distract you."

"What do you mean?" Dean frowned, brow immediately smoothing into a soft smile when Dani turned her face back toward him. She yawned wide, and _God,_ she was adorable. His hands itched to hold her, feel her little hands on his face, squeezing him back in affection.

"We're in the air, Dean."

Dean started and looked out of the window. So they were. He grinned. He hadn't even noticed.

Hours later when they finally pulled into their drive, Dean laughed at the wide, homemade banner tied across the front porch. It read _Welcome Home, Dani._

Jo and Ellen, Bobby, Ash, Sam and Gabe all stood on the porch, waiting.

Jo was very nearly bouncing up and down with excitement as they approached. She reached for the baby, squealing softly. "Oh my God, oh my God."

Dani blinked sleepily as Jo kissed her chubby cheek and held her close.

"She's beautiful, oh!" Jo blinked rapidly. "Shit. I'm going to cry."

Sam laughed and pulled the baby free. "Let me have her then before you traumatize her." He carried her into the house, squeezing to the front of the crowded porch. Bobby helped Dean and Cas with the luggage, stacking it beside the front door.

They all stood in the living room, admiring the baby, cooing and petting her, gathered close until her face screwed up as she realized they were _all_ strangers. She whimpered, rosebud mouth drawn up in a pout. Dean spotted a real tear and his stomach clenched. _Baby girl._

Cas took her from Sam and she perched on his arm, eyes wide at the new assortment of faces. She squirmed though, twisting from his grasp, lip quivering.

And reached for Dean.

Dean thought his heart might well have burst into a million pieces in that moment, and his hands held a slight tremble when he took her from Cas, tucking her close. She felt so small and soft in his arms, her tiny feet folded against his stomach. He could feel the nervous tension in her back, so he patted her, rubbing soothing circles into the pink knit of her sweater.

She rubbed her face in his neck and grasped a fistful of his t-shirt in her pudgy hand. She eyed the group warily, but very clearly wasn't going to let go of Dean any time soon. He nuzzled her head, inhaling her soft powder scent, and then kissed her cheek.

His held his breath as she stared at him with her obscenely thick lashes and dark, dark eyes for a long beat.

She grinned.

Dean's heart melted into a puddle of goo.

"Just like your father," he whispered fiercely against her cheek before he kissed her again. "Played hard to get and still managed to wrap me around your little finger."

Cas leaned over his shoulder and kissed both of their cheeks.

"I heard that."

...


	15. Chapter 15

...

"I should unpack her bottles and formula. She's probably getting tired." Cas ran a hand over Dani's soft, downy head. The baby was fussy, her sweet face crinkling unhappily when anyone tried to take her from Dean's lap.

Dean was no help, relishing the chance to shower her with affection and cuddles. She would glare at whichever pair of hands was threatening to remove her from her comfy position in the crook of his arm and then glance up at Dean as if to say _I'm counting on you to back me up here, so you better not let me down. _

"Clearly Dean's already brainwashed her." Gabe complained after the baby bitterly refused his attempts to hold her. "He's always been a selfish bastard."

"You're just gonna have to accept she's got better taste than Sam," Dean said smugly.

"Bite me, Dean." Sam dug his elbow into Dean's calf hard enough to bruise. He and Gabe were seated on the floor of the living room, plates of food from the Roadhouse balanced on their knees. Ellen and Jo had brought a small feast to celebrate Dani's homecoming.

"So what did you two do all by yourselves without Cas and Dean here to entertain you?" Jo snagged half of a buttered hot roll from Ash's plate when he choked, distracted by her question. She winked at his mock fury.

"I don't think we should be asking that," Ash wheezed, eyes watering. "You know how Bobby feels about discussing things of a sexual nature at the dinner table."

"Yes, please use me as an excuse," Bobby muttered. "None of you want to hear it either."

"Close your ears, Bobby," Jo advised around a mouthful of yeasty bread. "I'm dying to know if they ever got past awkward fumbling or if they're still stuck at middle school girl."

Dean laughed outright at Sam's livid expression. "Jo's speaking from personal experience, obviously."

"I'm not participating in this blatant intrusion into my personal life," Sam complained loudly.

Ash leaned around the end of the coffee table where he was seated Indian-style and patted Sam's knee. "I hear you, brother. Some guys play coy for far too long. But when they finally let loose," Ash rolled his eyes with a whistle. "Gabe's a firecracker, I'd bet my pants."

Gabe picked up a chicken leg and gnawed at it contemplatively. "I will honor Dr. Winchester's wishes and refrain from reveling you with tales of smut and ecstasy that would make your toes curl." He winked at Ash. "But you wouldn't lose your pants."

"Pictures or it didn't happen," Dean snorted, frowning at Cas when he dipped a pinky in the cheesy potato casserole on his plate and then let the baby suck it from his fingertip. Her little feet kicked excitedly and she grinned. "She shouldn't be eating that."

"She's fine," Cas murmured, giving her another bite. Dani leaned forward, hands grasping at Cas' thigh. He laughed and set his plate on the couch beside him so he could pull her from Dean's arms.

"That's cheating," Dean complained, letting the baby go reluctantly.

Cas continued to feed her from his plate, mostly the potatoes, but also spoonfuls of gravy and small bites of buttered roll.

Dean grabbed his own cooling plate from the coffee table and began to eat. Man he loved Ellen's cooking. "Mmm, Ellen, this is awesome. Just like Thanksgiving."

"Funeral potatoes and all," Ash crooned, spooning a huge bite into his mouth with a grin.

"Funeral potatoes?" Cas narrowed his gaze on the tip of his spoon. He chuckled when he realized Dani was holding her mouth open waiting for it and pushed the tip between her lips. She sucked on it loudly, making them all smile.

"Dani approves," Ellen said. "And they're just your basic potato casserole, Cas. Don't listen to these rednecks."

"I like 'em," Bobby grunted.

Dean watched with a satisfied grin as Ellen's cheeks pinked.

"You take them to funerals or church potlucks, Cas. You've never heard of funeral potatoes?" Jo was inching her way closer to his knee, hoping for one last try at holding the baby before they were kicked out for the night.

Cas shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he said drily. "But then I don't get invited to a lot of church potlucks."

Dean's fingers brushed his thigh. "That's why we have Ellen."

"So what about Thanksgiving," Ellen asked, smiling at the picture Dean and Cas made on the couch, two incredibly handsome men with a beautiful baby girl seated on their lap. Dani rubbed her eyes with her fists before laying her head on Cas' shoulder with a wide yawn. "Dinner at my place? I'll do a ham and a turkey?"

"And the potatoes," Ash pointed with his spoon.

"And pie," Dean inserted hurriedly. "Lots of pie."

"I'll bring drinks," Bobby offered, wiping his mouth on a paper napkin.

"I'll bring the baby," Cas said with a grin. "That's all you really want anyway."

"And on that note," Ellen declared, standing, "we should let you boys settle in with this little charmer."

They cleaned up the remains of dinner, leaving the leftovers in the fridge and the dishes in the dishwasher. Ellen wrapped an arm around Dean's waist when he followed them to the door, a sleepy Dani cuddled on his chest. She squeezed him. "She's beautiful, Dean. Congratulations. I expect to babysit very soon."

Dean grinned. "You got it."

"Well, I for one am going to spoil her rotten and wear her out and just when she's a cranky basket of poo and tears, bring her home," Jo announced, grabbing Dean's face and placing a sloppy kiss on his lips.

Cas moved into her field of vision.

Jo wrinkled her nose. "Shit. I forgot about you." She yanked Cas to her with a fistful of his shirt and kissed him too.

Dean growled. "Hey!"

"Fair's fair, Dean," Sam quipped, laughing at Dean's stormy expression.

Dean pulled Cas against his side, glaring pointedly at Jo. "You just stop tonguing Cas and no one loses a limb."

Jo winked. "Yeah Dean, whatever. I'm terrified."

Bobby gingerly stroked the baby's back.

"Tell Grandpa bye, Dani." Dean jostled the baby in Bobby's direction.

"I prefer Uncle Bobby," Bobby complained.

"Nope, you're definitely Grandpa," Dean said cheerfully.

"Brat." Bobby tentatively kissed the baby's cheek and she grinned, batting him in the eye. "Ow, kid. Take it easy on your," he cleared his throat, trying out the words on his tongue. "_Grandpa._"

Dean noted Ellen's expression soften as she watched them.

"You want to hold her, Ellen?"

"Nah, not tonight," she smiled. "We've got plenty of time. And she looks awfully content."

Dean would have handed the baby over, but he was selfishly glad he didn't have to. And Dani _was_ content, chubby fingers working on his shirt, body relaxed against his shoulder. Little charmer had had him tied up in knots over her ambivalence for the past three days, but she seemed happily attached now. He must have passed whatever test she had set for him.

He laughed when she bent forward suddenly and bit his jaw, sucking into the skin. "She's your daughter, all right," he said, grinning at Cas.

Cas cocked an eyebrow. "I'd guess we have less than twenty minutes to meltdown. You want to run her bath water? I'll fix her a bottle."

Dani received last minute kisses from everyone before they left, Ash dragging up the rear.

"You've been awfully quiet tonight, Ash," Dean said, patting the baby's back.

"Just soakin' it all in, Deano," Ash smiled.

Dean could hear Cas moving in the kitchen. "Well, drive safe on that old bike. Come back next week on your lunch break and we'll watch Days of Our Lives while this one naps."

"Did you see that Sami was back with that bastard EJ?" Ash asked indignantly, tossing his hair. "I swear, that girl ain't got the sense God gave a goose."

"EJ," Dean groaned. "Again?"

"Would you two stop gossiping about your goddamn soap opera and get a move on," Bobby grumbled, poking his head through the front door. "You're parked behind me, runt. You can schedule your stitch and bitch sessions every day while Dean's on maternity leave."

"_Paternity_ leave, old man," Dean interjected. "Paternity. Father."

Bobby waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever. I shoulda got you knitting needles and a maid's costume."

"Oh we bought one of those," Gabe said, catching the tail end of the conversation as he returned from Sam's bedroom. He was dragging a huge suitcase behind him.

"Lord," Bobby huffed, turning to leave again. "I don't want to know."

Dean recognized the green suitcase as one of Sam's. "You going somewhere, Sammy?"

Sam looked quickly at Gabe and then back, a silent conversation taking place in a glance. _So, that's what it looks like,_ Dean thought.

"For a few days, yeah. I'm going to stay with Gabe." His cheeks might have been ruddier than usual.

"You don't have to," Dean frowned. "You too, Gabe."

"Nah," Sam said, bending over to kiss Dani's temple. "She smells good," he murmured. "You and Cas and Dani deserve a few days to adjust."

Dean reached over and squeezed Sam's bicep. "Thanks, Sammy," he murmured.

"And I get a whole week's worth of private consultations," Gabe pointed out helpfully.

Dean laughed. "And, moment over."

He shut and locked the door behind his brother and Gabe and squatted in front of his suitcase. He sat Dani on the floor beside him and she weaved back and forth unsteadily before finding her balance with a wide grin. She shoved a fist in her mouth, sucking hungrily.

Dean chuckled. "I know, baby girl. Daddy's fixing your dinner." He unzipped his bag. _Daddy._ Was he going to be Daddy too? What did kids with two dads (or two moms, for that matter) call them? Should one of them have a different moniker? He pulled a clean sleeper from the suitcase, and rocked back on his feet, grinning at her. She swayed toward him and he caught her just before she toppled over.

"Let's go find your bath seat, yeah?" He picked her up hesitantly, half expecting her to have changed her mind about him and screw her face up in rejection.

She batted at his nose with her spit-damp fist.

"Easy there," he chuckled.

In the bedroom, he stopped, frowning. Dani's crib was supposed to be in the corner, by the window. Sam had promised they would set it up while Dean and Cas were in Colorado.

He stepped back into the hall. "Hey, Cas. Come here."

Cas poked his head out of the kitchen, baby bottle in his hand and a dish towel slung over his shoulder. "What's going on?" He smiled at the picture Dean made, unconsciously swaying, their baby's dark head tucked under his chin.

"No bed," Dean said wrinkling his nose.

"Crap," Cas exhaled. "She can sleep with us?"

As much as Dean would love that, he also knew it might be setting a hard to break habit, for all of them. "I guess." He looked back into his suspiciously empty room. "None of her things are here either, the stroller, her bath stuff."

Cas walked down the hall and peered into the room. "Do you think they put it in Sam's room?"

"Why would they do that?" Dean frowned. Something was fishy here.

"I don't know, he definitely has more room than you, now that I'm here." Cas wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I have space needs."

"You have needs all right," Dean muttered, dodging Cas' greedy hands and starting down the hall for Sam's bedroom door.

Cas smiled at Dani's happy grin when she spotted him over Dean's shoulder. _God_ he loved that baby.

And Dean.

Together they were basically a Molotov cocktail to his heart.

Dean stood in Sam's open doorway, mouth agape. "What the hell?"

Cas peeked around the opening.

The room had been completely refinished. It was no longer a man's bedroom, but a bright and happy nursery, walls painted a fresh, spring green, all of the white furniture Dean had purchased creating a clean contrast. A sweetly colored rag rug was in the center of the floor and a patchwork baby quilt was folded over the railing of the crib. Dean had never seen either piece, but they spoke of Ellen's homey influence.

"Wow," Cas exhaled.

"I'm going to kill him," Dean said, voice tight.

Cas chuckled. "You don't think that might take the sheen off your appreciation?"

Dean huffed. "He's moving out. _Moved_ out."

Cas crowded against Dean's back, wrapping his arms around his waist. He nuzzled his neck, breathing the warm masculine scent he so closely associated with _Dean_. "He's giving you space for your family. I think it's sweet."

Dean let Cas coddle him, the baby tucked safe against his chest. "I've never lived without him," he said quietly.

Cas kissed his jaw. "Then we'll buy a bigger house."

Dean chuckled. "Just like that."

Cas mouthed a trail to his ear. "If that'd make you happy."

Dean stepped away so he could turn around. "I'm happy, Cas."

Their mouths met above the baby's head in a hungry kiss.

Dani began to fuss, pushing at their chests.

"The boss has spoken," Cas teased. He pulled the baby from Dean's arms. "See if her bath seat is in the closet?" He perused the perimeter of the soft carpet, admiring the framed artwork on the walls of Dani's new room.

"These sketches are beautiful."

Dean found a fancy space organizer inside the walk-in closet, a multitude of shelves, rods and drawers pristinely sorting Dani's meager belongings. He imagined the closet would fill rapidly, given the ease with which he had taken to shopping for the baby. He spotted the bath seat on a shelf.

"What sketches," he asked when he emerged. Cas and Dani were beside the baby dresser and that damn teapot lamp from Two Peas cast a soft glow over their beautiful profiles. He hadn't bought that lamp; Jo must have ratted him out and told someone how many times he had ventured back to it that day in the store. The silly thing had been entirely too expensive, _two hundred dollars_, but it had drawn him time and again to fondle its quirky lines.

Now it sat cheerfully beside a fat pink pig on top of the dresser.

The wide framed drawing Cas was standing in front of was of a field, with a barn and a horse, trees in the distance, country fence line dotting the landscape.

"That's Ellen's," Dean murmured, reaching out to touch the frame. He looked around the room. There were several of Ellen's sketches and paintings scattered around the walls, framed and sweet and making the lump in his throat swell.

"I'm," he swallowed. "I'm overwhelmed."

Dani chose that moment to break into a sharp cry, tugging at the bottle Cas still held in one hand.

They laughed.

"Okay, we suck at this," Cas huffed, positioning the baby on his arm so she could lie back and take her bottle. She melted into him, eyes drifting closed as she sucked ferociously on the nipple. "We screwed around and fucked up her bathtime."

"How dirty can she be," Dean asked, leaning over to kiss her head. "Hey," he said excitedly. "You can try out that fancy glider rocker I bought." He pushed Cas toward the chair.

Cas chuckled but let Dean maneuver him into the chair. Dani burrowed closer when he began to rock, emitting a tiny, contented sigh. She was asleep almost instantly, the bottle only half empty. "She's going to wake up starved at about two a.m.," he said in exasperation.

"I'll get up with her," Dean volunteered a smidge too quickly. He smiled shyly when Cas gave him a knowing grin. "What?"

"There _will_ come a day when we're fighting over whose turn it is, I'm positive."

Dean bent over the rocker, halting its soothing motion so he could brush his lips across Cas'. "That day's not today," he said, the words ghosting over the warm skin under his mouth. "I'm going to jump in the shower." He straightened and stretched.

Cas caught him by the thigh, bottle in hand. "You could wait for me."

"I don't know how that's so sexy," Dean murmured, bending again. Cas grinned when Dean cupped his face to kiss him.

"Everything I do is sexy."

"Smart ass," Dean muttered. He used an extra judicious application of tongue, bolstered when Cas gave a breathless little moan as he backed away.

"Not fair, Winchester."

"I'll meet you in the bathroom, Novak."

Dean had already shampooed his hair when a beautifully naked Cas stepped over the edge of the tub. His heart executed a barrel roll in his chest; god_damn_ he was handsome. Dean's soap-slick hands grabbed Cas by the hips and yanked him forward. He kissed him hungrily, grinding their lower halves together.

"Miss me," Cas asked cheekily as Dean bit into his neck.

"Yes, _God._"

"Addict," Cas gasped when wet fingers closed around him, his body racing to catch up to Dean's already aroused state.

"_Mine,"_ Dean growled in his ear, sucking the earlobe between his teeth.

"Dean," Cas moaned, head thumping against the tile when Dean pushed him into the wall. "_Fuck._"

Dean swallowed his grunt as he crowded their bodies together in the small space, the shower curtain creating an intimate, steamy environment. He sped up the motion of his fist, wanting Cas to fall to pieces, to take him apart bit by bit until he was panting, demolished under the hot spray of water and Dean's hands.

As usual, he underestimated the firefighter's endurance.

Cas dug his fingers into Dean's biceps, bruising the skin in ten precise ovals, grounding him until he could catch his breath. Then he grabbed Dean's head and dragged his mouth upward until he could bite at the full lips and suck against the hot thrust of his tongue. His hips controlled the motion of Dean's fist, refusing to bow to Dean's pace.

Dean growled again, frustrated. "I'm in charge here, asshole."

Cas laughed darkly, pulling Dean's hair until his head tipped back, exposing one long, tan column of throat. He licked a stripe up the wet skin, teeth toying with the sharp edge of Dean's jaw.

"I don't think so."

Dean was hard against his hip and Cas released his hair to touch him, caressing his hardness, the soft, gentle motion of his fingers belying the bruising, heat-infused kiss of a few moments earlier.

Dean whimpered against his neck.

Cas smiled, loving how easily Dean was conquered, how responsive he was to the slightest brush of his hand.

His stomach fluttered with butterflies. "Look at me, Dean," he commanded softly.

Dean's beautiful green eyes blinked open, lashes thick with droplets of water. A smattering of freckles stood out on the bridge of his nose, incongruously _cute_ in an Adonis face.

He tightened his fist, sweeping long, slow passes up and down Dean's cock.

"No hands will ever touch you like this but mine," he said possessively, breath hitching when Dean's own fist twisted and pulled in a sexually charged retaliation.

Dean slammed him into the wall, catching their hands between their bellies. His lips hovered an inch from Cas' mouth, and he quirked his head when the deep blue eyes widened in shock. "You don't listen very well, do you?"

Cas huffed a laugh, trying to wriggle out from under the heavy body pinning him in place. "Apparently not. Were you talking?" The words collapsed on a groan when Dean dipped his head to suck at his Adam's apple.

"I was saying," Dean licked the bite mark he had just placed in the soft spot under Cas' chin. "That _I'm _fucking in charge here, and it would be best if you just lie back and take it for once."

Cas thrust his hips forward and Dean caught his breath when their cocks brushed against one another.

"_Then get on with it,_" Cas grunted in frustration.

"Tie you up, I swear to God, one day I'm going to do it," Dean muttered, adjusting his stance so he could take them both in his hand, swatting Cas' fingers aside when he tried to help. "Hold on to something else. This is mine."

Cas banged his head on the wall again as Dean found the perfect rhythm. He gave up the fight for control; neither side was ever going to lose anyway. One hand lay limp against the wet tile and the other held the nape of Dean's neck, guiding that hot mouth to his throat. Dean's hips were thrusting gently into the narrow channel he had made for them with his fist, and it was glorious, the hot slickness of soap and water, skin on skin. He could feel himself tumbling closer and closer to the edge and he welcomed it.

"Dean," he moaned, lips parting. Dean sensed he was close and licked into his mouth, swallowing his gasps of pleasure.

"Shh," Dean whispered, kissing him hungrily. "You'll wake the baby."

Cas' body spasmed, back arching more violently than he anticipated as the orgasm snuck up on him, a wave of sensation that nearly knocked him off his feet. His vision whited and when he blinked back into awareness, panting into the rapidly cooling stream of water falling on their bodies, Dean's face was buried in the crook of his neck.

"_Fuck_ that was hot," Dean mumbled.

Cas chuckled breathlessly. "I hereby surrender. You can be in charge all the time." His hips twitched as Dean continued to fondle them. He pulled at Dean's ears, bringing their mouths together.

Dean kissed him long and deep. "You used up all the hot water again." He shivered under the tepid stream.

"I had help," Cas said softly, toying with his bottom lip. "Now wash my hair."

Dean grinned. "God, you can't let me have the upper hand for two straight minutes, can you?"

"That was way longer than two minutes," Cas protested, reaching for the shampoo and shoving it into Dean's hands. "Now hurry up, I'm freezing my nuts off."

Dean rolled his eyes but squeezed a dollop of shampoo into his palm. He flipped Cas over, pressing his chest into the wall.

Cas huffed in surprise, his laugh catching when Dean bent to kiss the center of his back, between his shoulder blades. "Mmm, I like this position too."

"Insatiable," Dean murmured, kissing his shoulder, then the back of his neck, before soaping his hair generously, working the suds into a thick lather. He massaged Cas' temples, dropping one hand to tuck Cas against him, back to front, needing the contact. "Ok, rinse."

He ran the leftover shampoo lather over Cas' body while Cas vigorously pushed the stream of water through his hair. Dean wished belatedly he had taken time to wash Cas first; there was something heady and sweet about running his soap-covered hands over the lean muscles, pressing thumbprints into the divots of his hips, smoothing palms under Cas' arms where he was ticklish (even though he swore he wasn't). It was intimate in a way Dean had never been intimate with anyone else, touching this body, cleaning it the way he would his own. He pulled Cas close, noting the fine tremble.

"You cold," he asked softly, kissing his jaw.

"Mm hmm." Cas shuddered. "Let's go to bed."

Dean reached behind them to switch off the faucet, releasing Cas reluctantly.

They dried each other quickly, roughing up cold skin with fluffy towels, snickering as they kissed their way across the hall to the bedroom without dressing, the freedom of an empty house exhilarating.

Cas pushed Dean under the sheets, climbing into the bed and wrapping around him like wanted to crawl inside his skin. He was shivering hard now.

"You're warm," he muttered against Dean's chest.

Dean rubbed his hands up and down his back, holding him tight. He reached down to drag the blankets higher, covering Cas' back with an additional layer of warmth. "You're not getting sick on me, are you? I'm not sure how equipped I am to handle two babies."

"I don't get sick," Cas mumbled around a mouthful of Dean's neck. "I'm far too studly and heroic. Germs quake in my presence."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, okay. We'll see about that. You probably caught something on the plane." He grimaced. "Cooped up for hours breathing other people's recycled illness."

Cas lifted his head to glare at him incredulously and Dean grinned; his hair was sticking up at odd angles all over his head and it was far sexier than it had any right to be. "Then _you_ would be sick too, genius."

"Nuh uh," Dean shook his head triumphantly. "Five year olds are little germ factories. I'm uniquely conditioned." He poked a thumb into Cas' side, smiling when he jumped. _Not ticklish, my ass._ "You're a delicate flower in comparison."

Cas snorted and reclaimed his position under Dean's arm, face planted in his warm neck.

Dean continued to rub his back until his shivering subsided. "We forgot the baby monitor," he murmured drowsily. Life didn't get much better than this, he mused, sleep toying with the edge of his consciousness.

"We'll hear her," Cas offered. Or at least that's what Dean thought he said; his diction was affected by the mouthful of skin he was sucking on.

"You going to suck on my neck all night," Dean asked, squirming, new twinges of excitement already pooling in his belly. "One day you really are going to kill me. Then what are you gonna do? The authorities will expect an explanation, you know."

"Death by sex god," Cas murmured, lazily kissing a trail to his chest. "It's not a terrible epitaph."

Dean nudged him aside. "Let me go get the monitor." He slid out from under Cas' arms before he could protest. "Be right back."

Cas frowned as he watched Dean rummage through his top drawer for underwear. "Don't get married to those. I'm not wasting my time removing them in the morning," he warned when Dean stepped into the leg holes.

Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Beautiful, horny boyfriend, already planning the next round.

The admonition was unnecessary; he would gladly lose the boxers when he returned from the nursery. He loved sleeping naked with Cas, all warm skin on warm skin, limbs tangled, no barriers. It was one of his top five things, in fact.

He walked quickly down the hall, grinning. Technically, four of his top five things involved Cas. And nudity.

Shocking.

He peeked over the edge of the crib, breathing shallowly so as not to wake the sleeping baby, unable to resist watching her for a few long seconds. Cas had changed her into a soft, yellow-footed sleeper and he smiled at the picture she made, arms thrown out, the epitome of contentment. She was adorable. Her cheeks and lips worked, sucking a phantom bottle as she slept. He wondered if she was dreaming; what did babies dream about anyway? He gently laid a hand on her belly, sighing quietly at the rise and fall of her even breaths. He pulled the thin blanket higher on her chest, fretting as he wondered if the temperature of the room was warm enough.

He snorted softly when he turned from the bed to switch on the monitor base and grab the receiver; this was his life now. Anxiety over the health and well-being of two people he hadn't known existed just over two months ago.

"I wouldn't change a single thing," he whispered to the sleeping baby girl, fingers twitching with the desire to pet her soft head. He resisted, barely, and only because Cas was waiting and Dani had had a long day of travel and she looked so peaceful.

The other half of Dean's changed life focus was dozing when he slipped under the sheets. Cas mumbled sleepily, turning into Dean's warmth and sliding a knee between his thighs, throwing a possessive arm around his waist.

Dean chuckled and let himself be arranged to Cas' liking. He squeezed him hard after he settled down. "Cas. We're dads," he whispered.

"We are," Cas murmured.

"I feel so responsible," Dean whispered again, after a beat. "And grown up."

"Mmm." Cas pinched the tiny bit of fluff that persisted in floating about the edge of Dean's waist no matter how many miles he ran in the mornings. "I'm glad one of us does. Now go to sleep before I decide to creatively work off some of this flab."

Dean flushed, grinning. "That's not flab, you dick. And besides. You like it."

"Feels like too much pie to me." Cas rubbed his fingers across Dean's stomach, angling his chin for a kiss. "And I do like it."

Dean obliged, lingering just long enough to tender a tantalizing offer of more in the morning.

Cas snapped the waistband of the boxers, making him jump.

"Ow, douchebag," Dean whispered, chuckling.

"No." Cas didn't elaborate, but he did cup a certain part of Dean's anatomy possessively.

"Yes, boss." Dean extricated himself from Cas' multitude of limbs and slipped the boxers from his legs, pushing them to the end of the bed with a foot.

Cas immediately resumed his former position, twining their bodies together. "Better," he muttered gruffly, settling into Dean's shoulder.

Dean kissed the dark head under his nose. "I don't know whether to call you a greedy perv or just plain lazy."

Cas grunted in response, placing a palm against Dean's mouth.

Dean gave the hand a quick and dirty lick, grinning, before closing his eyes. His last thought before he drifted off was that sometimes life really was beautiful.

...


	16. Chapter 16

_**Author's Note:** Thank you for being awesome readers!_

_..._

Babies have no concept of morning sex agendas, Dean discovered.

He was smack in the middle of an adventuresome exploration of the smooth skin on the inside of Cas' left thigh when Dani's voice came over the monitor, cooing so sweetly he nearly busted his eyebrow against a knobby knee trying to claw out from under the sheet.

Cas groaned. "I _told_ you this was a bad idea."

Dean grinned, sliding out of bed. "I'll get her." He palmed Cas' errant bedhead. "Dude. Make yourself presentable for her highness."

Cas caught his wrist before he could escape, yanking him back for a hard kiss, smiling when Dean forced him to soften it, soothing fingers through his hair. "You old romantic," he murmured. "Morning."

"I'll take 'phrases that don't begin and end with _fuck', _Alex," Dean chuckled into his mouth.

Cas slapped his ass when he bent over to grab a pair of discarded pajama pants. "I get an IOU Winchester."

"Put it on my tab, Novak," Dean called as he left the room.

Dani was sitting in her crib, fluffy bits of hair sticking up in a wild display that reminded Dean charmingly of her father. Her grin was wide and wet when she spotted him and she rocked excitedly on her butt, throwing herself off balance. Her chubby fist wasn't quick enough to counterbalance and she rolled onto her face.

Dean laughed at her pissy expression when he turned her over to gather her up. "Your execution is a solid nine, sweetheart, but I have to give you a five for the dismount."

He patted her butt, wincing at the fullness. "Somebody is soaked," he murmured. He grinned when her tummy gurgled. "And hungry."

She twitched on his elbow, whimpering her confirmation. She might have been happy until he walked in the room, but instinctively she knew Dean was there to feed her, which rapidly moved _food_ to the top spot on her priorities list.

Dean grabbed the box of wipes and a diaper from the vintage sideboard against the wall. Last night he had recognized the freshly painted piece of furniture as one from Bobby's dining room; its drawers had always been filled with bills and random receipts and decades-old banking statements. It warmed him to see it against the happy green of the nursery wall, weaving the parts of his extended family together with his new one.

He dropped the fussy baby into Cas' lap in the bedroom, tossing the diaper and wipes on the bed.

Dani glared at him, cheeks puffing out as she worked up a legitimate cry.

"Oh gee, thanks for warming her up for me." Cas smoothed the baby's back with gentle pats.

"She's Niagra Falls, both ends," Dean smirked. "I'll fix her chow if you'll dry her out."

Cas enjoyed the view as Dean waltzed from the room, pajamas slung dangerously low on his hips. "Good thing his ass is so pretty, Dani," he muttered as he unsnapped the legs of her sleeper. "Otherwise, your daddy would have to throw him across his knee and show him who's boss."

Dani tried to roll out from under his hands the second she was free of the soggy diaper.

"Oh no you don't, you little minx." Cas grinned down at her, holding her in place with one hand and reaching for the wipes with the other. He frowned when he pulled one from the tub and it was cold. "This sucks. Surely someone somewhere has invented a warmer for these things?"

Dani kicked at him in response, then brought her knees to her stomach, reaching for her toes. She smiled and cooed, sweet baby noises that transformed Cas' heart into the mushy consistency of pudding. He made fast work with the wipe, warming it in his hands first, then diapering and redressing her far quicker than he had last night.

"Hey, I'm getting good at this," he said proudly.

Dani gurgled and blew a spit bubble, unimpressed. She tried to roll out from under his palm again.

"Everyone's a critic," Cas muttered drily, releasing her tummy and watching with a smile as she flipped neatly onto her stomach. The hair on the back of her head was mashed flat, matted against her scalp, and he ran his hand over it, fluffing the fine strands. He should probably start watching youtube videos on little girl hairstyles; it might take him years to master the exotic-sounding French braid. If he knew the handsome bastard currently making too much noise in the kitchen (he did), Dean would be content to slap Dani's hair in a ponytail for the next eighteen years and call it good.

"Let's see what the sous chef has planned for breakfast, Dani girl."

He scooped the baby into his arms and threw back the sheet, grimacing when he remembered he had been (rather pleasantly) distracted from dressing earlier.

"Oops." He sat her carefully on the floor, bedcovers pulled over his lap self-consciously. She looked up at him reproachfully and started to fuss. "I know, I know," he apologized, standing and quickly walking to the dresser, sheet trailing behind him. "I should probably not be embarrassed that you caught me with my pants down," he quipped.

"What are you doing?" Dean's voice was amused as he poked his head in the room. He grinned wider when Cas blushed furiously as he hurriedly pulled on a pair of boxers.

"I was naked. Dammit."

Dean chuckled, crossing the room with a bottle in one hand, lifting the confused and hungry baby, burying his nose in her sweet-smelling neck. She spotted the bottle and squirmed, voicing her displeasure at the delay, so he tipped her back on his elbow. He grinned when her mouth latched onto the nipple with vigor.

"You know, the irony of this moment amuses me," he said cheekily, loving the way the additional color in Cas' cheeks enhanced the blue of his eyes.

"Seriously. Shut it."

"No, really. Need I remind you that within five seconds of meeting me you had stripped off all your clothes?"

"Asshole," Cas muttered, yanking the drawstrings on his pajama pants into a neat bow.

"She doesn't know the difference, you know."

"I don't care." Cas rolled his eyes defensively. "I know."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Dean laughed. "But how quaint. And sweet."

"Shut up." Cas kissed him sloppily on the cheek. "Eggs?"

"And bacon," Dean said approvingly, mouth watering for both the food and the lips nibbling at his the edge of his jaw.

Cas kissed the baby's head too. "Do you think she can eat eggs?"

Dean frowned. "I have no idea. Google?"

"You," Cas grunted, leading the way. "I'll cook."

"Say," Dean called as he settled on the couch with the baby snuggled into the crook of his arm. He flipped open the laptop and waited for it to wake from sleep mode. "Does this mean no more naked poetry Thursdays?"

"Shut the fuck uh-up," Cas sing-songed from the kitchen.

Dani touched his face with one hand and Dean kissed the tiny fingers. He smiled at her conspiratorially and propped her bottle under his chin so he could type his search term one-handed. "Daddy is going to bribe the firefighter with Frost," he said low. "And hide his clothes while he's in the shower."

"You do know that I can hear you," Cas asked from the doorway, voice exasperated. "And I prefer Keats."

Dean winked at Dani, her round cheeks pushed high in a wide grin, milk dribbling from the corner of her mouth. "That's because the firefighter's a sap," he stage-whispered.

He jumped when Cas leaned over the back of the couch, mouth dangerously close to his ear. "You two really need to work on your stealth tactics if you're going to gang up on me."

Dean rubbed his temple against the course stubble of Cas' jaw, fine goosebumps peppering his forearms. "I can do stealth," he protested.

Dani pushed the bottle away and struggled against Dean's arm to sit up. The bottle rolled off of Dean's shoulder, and Cas caught it before it fell onto the couch. He cocked one eyebrow before brushing a thumb across Dani's wet cheek.

"Yup, those reflexes are amazing. Were you SEAL?"

"Can it, Novak, before I have to embarrass you in front of your daughter."

Dani was pulling at Cas' wrist now, clearly wanting to be picked up and Cas obliged her, laughing softly. "You've just been saved from humiliation by _your_ daughter," he replied.

He straightened, patting the baby's back and initiating a loud burp.

Dean tipped his head back and grinned. "That shouldn't be cute."

Cas bent over the back of the couch, one hand securely against the baby to drop a kiss to Dean's upside down mouth.

"So what's the verdict? Baby eggs, yes or no?"

"I don't know," Dean grumbled, pulling the laptop onto his knees and completing his search. "You distracted me."

Cas looked at Dani, who wiggled contentedly. "Did you notice how it's always my fault? That's a recurring theme in this household."

"That's because it usually _is_ your fault," Dean pointed out, scrolling through a page on infant dietary recommendations. "Or you're not wearing clothes."

"He's also a rank liar," Cas offered solemnly. "He's the one who runs around naked."

"That's because you make me!"

"Did you hear the blame in his tone," Cas whispered. Dani grinned.

Dean snorted. "Well that was a trap of my own making."

Cas reached down to ruffle his hair. "Too easy."

Dean swatted his hand away and scanned the webpage. "_Any food may be introduced at four to six months, including eggs, unless a previous known allergy exists within the family," _he read aloud. He glanced up. "I guess we have no idea about that last part."

Cas shook his head. "Nope. But I saw Danny eat eggs plenty of times."

Dean shoved the laptop to the side and stood, reaching for the baby. "Good enough for me. Now give me back the baby and no one gets hurt."

Cas chuckled, kissing her cheek and passing her to Dean. "Remember who's your favorite, baby girl. Never let anyone dissuade you from the truth of your heart."

Dean waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen. "Poetic, Mr. Keats. Now get your ass in the kitchen, and cook me some breakfast. I'm hungry." He thumped his chest for emphasis and Cas narrowed his gaze.

"Do I need to assert my authority, Dean," he asked, voice low and rough and doing a quick and dirty number on Dean's crotch.

"Fuck, Cas. Stop that. I'm," Dean's words stumbled on his exhale. "_Great._ Now I'm hungry _and_ horny."

Cas spun on his heel and sauntered into the kitchen. "Too easy," he repeated over his shoulder.

...

Dani liked eggs. Or she liked to mash them between her fingers and spread them around the tray of her highchair. Not many made it into her mouth, but she didn't break out into hives or puke or suffer any number of traumatic results Dean had imagined.

Cas was wiping her fingers clean with a wet paper towel as she blinked sleepily, rubbing her free fist across her eyes.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but you've got egg in your eyebrow," Cas murmured in a thick southern drawl.

Dean swatted his ass with a dishtowel. "Are you making fun of my accent again?"

Cas slid the high chair tray free and began to unbuckle the narrow belt that held the baby in the seat. "If the bowlegs fit."

Dean's mouth worked open and closed.

Cas grinned. "You're going to catch flies like that."

"_Asshole._ I'll show you what my bowlegs are good for."

Cas grabbed the waistband of his pajama pants and yanked him close, kissing him with enough tongue that a very real whimper escaped from Dean's throat . "I think she's going down for a nap as soon as I give her a bath. That means you'll have the better part of an hour to make good on that."

"I'll do the dishes," Dean managed, eyes sparking hot with need over Cas' face, their interrupted morning springing quickly to mind.

Cas nibbled at his lips, kissing him gently, the hand at Dean's waist sliding around to cup his butt. "You have the best butt," he murmured.

Dean took a much-needed step back. "I'll just be about a hundred yards over there."

Cas chuckled. He picked the baby up and nuzzled her cheek when she yawned. "I wonder how often she naps," he mused aloud. "We probably should have asked for some sort of schedule from Molly."

"Eh," Dean shrugged, dipping his hands into the hot, sudsy water and pulling out a plate. "We'll figure it out." He thumped one of the plates into the rinse water. "We're idiots," he pronounced.

"Okay," Cas laughed. "Does that mean you _do_ want me to call Molly for a schedule?"

Dean snorted. "No. The eggs. I could have just called Sam."

Cas grinned. "Oh. Right. Next time?"

"Wonder how he's doing at Gabe's?"

Dean's voice was probably too wistful for Cas to tease him about without feeling guilty later. He brought Dani to Dean's side and leaned into him, kissing his temple. "Call him and find out. He can keep you company this afternoon while I do my half-shift at the station."

Dean kissed the baby first and then Cas before resuming with the dishes. "Good plan. Now follow through on the bath and nap thing so I can reward your amazing parenting skills with sex."

Cas laughed as he left the kitchen. "You reward _all_ my skills with sex."

"I don't see a problem with that," Dean muttered to the skillet he was scrubbing. "Tangible rewards have their place. They can be very motivating. And fun." He shifted uncomfortably, the leftover burn on his lips from Cas' stubble wrecking havoc with his libido.

"Who are you talking to," Cas called from the bathroom. Dean heard the bathtub begin to fill.

"My dick," Dean sighed. He hurried through the rest of the dishes; if he finished by the time Cas got Dani down for a nap, he might still have a chance to pay his IOU in full.

...

Twenty minutes later Cas wandered into the bedroom to find a very naked and flushed Dean lying atop the bed, biting his lip and clutching the sheets with his unoccupied hand.

Cas had never stripped off a pair of pants so fast in his life.

...

Sam took the plate Dean passed him, along with a beer.

Dean settled on the couch beside him with a happy sigh and took a large bite of his sub. "Mmm," he garbled around a mouthful of sourdough bread and a variety of meat. "S'good sandwich. Thanks."

Sam watched him with a wry expression. "You should probably chew, Dean."

"Chawgrrhg," Dean protested.

Sam snorted and took a much more civilized bite of his own sandwich, a veggie and cheese medley on whole wheat. He chewed thoughtfully, side-eyeing his brother. "So," he swallowed. "How's parenthood?"

"Awesome," Dean grinned. "Of course my baby is perfect, so don't go thinking your first will be as easy."

"I'm not in the market for babies," Sam replied with a shrug. "I'll just spoil yours."

"Aw, now Sammy, you never know. You and Gabe could have a whole houseful of sarcastic little bitchfaces." Dean laughed at his own joke. He was _hilarious._

"I don't think so," Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. Dean was never as funny as he thought.

"Ooh, I smell a sore point." Dean leaned forward to set his beer on the coffee table, slapping his hands together. "Tell me all your troubles, son."

"No," Sam complained, taking another bite. He forfeited civilized points when he spoke with his mouth full. "It's no fun to commiserate when the other party is stupidly happy."

"I'm not stupidly happy," Dean said, eyes wide and innocent.

"You're also a fucking liar."

Dean laughed and settled back against the cushions, his plate on his lap. "True. Still, I like to hear how the common folk live. Keeps me grounded."

Sam narrowed his gaze on Dean's satisfied face. "You're legitimately hard to be around these days, you know that?" He set his plate aside and ran a restless hand through his hair. He needed a haircut. He would have to call Bets, his hairdresser, and see if she could squeeze him in this weekend. Later though; if Dean happened to overhear the chirpy receptionist answer with her customary '_Thank you for calling Hot Locks! How may I help you?', _he'd never hear the end of it.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "I'm thinking about breaking up with Gabe."

Dean's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Why? You've been living together less twenty-four hours. He can't be _that_ bad in bed."

Sam huffed, stealing a chip from Dean's plate. "It's not that. God, Dean. Everything isn't about sex."

Dean grinned. "It is around here."

"Well it's not out in the real world, you oversexed dickhead. Jesus Christ, the rest of us don't have a perpetually horny, hot ass firefighter to come home to."

"More's the pity," Dean nodded in sympathy.

"Anyway," Sam said, glaring pointedly. "It's something I've been thinking about for a few weeks now."

"You've only been seeing each other a few weeks," Dean inserted helpfully.

"Shut up."

Dean held up his hands in surrender, locking his lips with a sassy gesture.

"He's impossible."

Dean grunted in agreement but pursed his lips at Sam's glare.

"He does the laundry and folds it, but never puts it away. He just buys a new laundry basket." Sam gestured wildly to encompass the room. "He has _four_ laundry baskets. They're taking over his living room!"

Dean chuckled. He had been to the mall once with Gabe, who had been on a mission to find the largest laundry basket in existence.

Sam sighed heavily, in frustration or sadness, Dean wasn't sure. "But he cooks like a goddamn gourmet chef, and I've never been treated with more kindness and God," Sam stopped, rubbing his fingers across the creases in his forehead. "More care? He really cares about me."

"That's not a bad thing," Dean murmured, serious for once.

"It is if I don't think I will ever feel the same way."

Dean watched him silently. When he didn't offer anything further he shrugged. "Have you talked to him? Gabe's a big boy. I don't think he went into this with grand illusions about you. Seems to me, he was looking for fun and was kinda surprised you were up for the adventure."

Sam shook his head. "Not yet. I was hoping I could find an apartment by now, before I moved out of Dani's room. I've just been too busy to look." He squirmed and Dean's eyes narrowed, suspicious.

"What?"

"I met their brother, Lucifer." Sam said.

"He's here?" Dean grumbled under his breath; Cas never mentioned that.

"Oh, he's here all right. He's an asshole."

Dean laughed, surprised. "Tell me how you really feel, Sammy."

Sam huffed, raking his hands through his hair again. "I _am_ serious, Dean. He waltzed up to me in the scrub room last week as I was trying to scrub in to observe a surgery and pinched my ass."

Dean grinned. "Well that sounds _very_ friendly, Sam. Maybe you're confusing personality with douchebaggery."

"He keeps looking at me like he wants to eat me for lunch." Sam flushed, making Dean grin wider. "And he _asked me out._"

Dean laughed, slapping Sam on the arm. "You sly dog you, double dipping the brothers." He frowned, realizing what he had just said. "Which, ew. And, should you choose to pursue this line of exploration, you _big slut_, make sure you keep your giant paws off _my_ Novak brother."

"Goodwin," Sam muttered from behind the hands covering his face.

"Huh?" Dean cocked his head; he thought he heard Dani cry.

"Goodwin. Lucifer and Michael and Gabe are Goodwins; Cas and Anna are Novaks."

Dean frowned. "How did you find that out?" He had yet to see even a single photograph of any of Cas' family, much less weasel out the sort of information on parentage or lineage Sam seemed to have gleaned in one open heart surgery.

"Lucifer is _very_ talkative."

Dean stood. That was definitely the baby, her whimpers gaining volume. "Hold that thought, Casanova. The princess has requested my presence."

Sam ate the rest of Dean's chips while he waited for his brother to tend to the baby. He couldn't help but smile when the two of them appeared in the living room doorway, Dean's lips buried in Dani's soft hair, the baby blinking sleepily, cheeks flushed rose-red.

She frowned when she spotted Sam on the couch, one fist tightening around Dean's t-shirt in a not-so-subtle warning: _Don't even think of giving me to him._

"She hates me," Sam sighed.

"Well, you're the ugly brother," Dean offered cheerfully.

"Oh, fuck you."

"Language, douchebag. My baby has delicate ears." Dean settled in next to Sam. He frowned at his plate. "You ate all my chips."

Sam shrugged dismissively, one finger toying with Dani's sleeper-clad foot. Damn, she was a cute little thing. "You're getting too fat."

"I am not," Dean huffed, sucking in his belly. His pants _were_ a little tight this morning, but that was because he hadn't been running in two weeks. Or four. It was _hard_ to drag his sleepy, tired, oversexed ass out of bed to pound the pavement at five or six a.m. when he could be pounding something _much_ warmer and responsive right in the comfort of his own bedroom.

Dani must have deemed Sam _safe_ because she leaned forward suddenly, reaching for him.

"Ha," Sam said triumphantly. "The old Winchester charm remains unsullied." He snuggled the baby against his chest, kissing her cheek in a loud smack. "Goddamn, she's pretty."

"Hmph," Dean grunted. "I warmed her up is all. Also," he pointed sharply at the pair. "_Language."_

"Let's take her for a ride. Get out of the house and show her Sioux Falls."

"Okay," Dean drawled skeptically. "What's the other reason?"

Sam flushed, a light pink suffusing his cheeks. "I have an appointment to see a loft downtown," he admitted sheepishly.

Dean laughed. "Sure, whatever. Let me just grab Anastasia's steamer trunk. You would not _believe_ all the crap you gotta pack to take a baby outside the house."

Sam bounced Dani on his knee, leaving Dean free to gather the supplies they might find necessary on their jaunt. He laughed at the stuffed brown floral diaper bag slung over Dean's shoulder.

"What _is_ that?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's the manliest one we could find at Super Target. Don't even get me _started_ on what Wal-Mart had to offer."

Sam rolled to his feet, grinning at Dani's excited expression when he lifted her high. "We could hit the mall? There has to be a non-floral option out there somewhere. You just aren't looking hard enough."

Dean tucked Dani's arms into a heavy sweater, maneuvering around Sam's elbow. Dani blew spit bubbles at him, adoration plain on her face. He kissed her forehead. "You keep looking at me like that baby girl and your uncle Sammy is going to start crying again."

Sam left first, taking the porch steps two at a time and making the baby coo excitedly. "Have you tried Etsy? I bet you could get a custom bag made."

Dean shook his head as he opened the back door of the Impala to grab Dani's carseat. And _he_ was the one accused of being too gay. He latched the seat base into the back of Sam's SUV, then took the baby from his brother and strapped her in. She frowned and he kissed her cheek. "Sorry, sweetheart. It's Uncle Sam's fault."

"Thanks," Sam said drily, starting the motor and adjusting the heat. "Put a blanket over her so she doesn't get too cold."

"Yes, dear," Dean rolled his eyes, the blanket already floating over Dani's little legs. He handed her a little stuffed panda, shaking it so the rattling sound distracted her from the fact he was about to abandon her for the front seat.

She shoved its ear in her mouth and grinned around the plush fabric.

"Maybe I should ride in the back," he said uncertainly.

"Dean."

"Okay, okay," Dean muttered, closing the door. He climbed in the passenger side and snapped his seatbelt into place. "But if she cries, I'm getting in the back."

Sam grinned. "I'm sure you will."

...

The loft in question was part of a downtown rejuvenation project funded through the historical society. The building had been converted into apartments, save the ground floor, which housed a coffee shop and bakery.

"I approve." Dean breathed the delicious aroma of coffee and yeast and sugary vanilla.

Sam chuckled. "We haven't seen the apartment yet."

"It's perfect, I feel it in my bones," Dean said with a grin. He took the baby from Sam's arms. "Lead the way so we can sign the paperwork and buy a cupcake." His eyes glazed over when they passed the glass-front counter. "Or a brownie. And _oh my God,_ is that a cinnamon roll?"

"Focus, Dean," Sam murmured, crossing to the reverse foyer at the back of the shop, where a private exit led to the alleyway behind the buildings and a staircase that led up to the apartments.

Unfortunately for Dean, Sam's proposed apartment occupied one of two dwellings on the top floor. He passed the diaper bag to him on the second floor landing.

"You gonna make it, chub," Sam teased. "Want me to carry the baby, too?"

"Shut up," Dean gasped. "I just need to catch my breath." He frowned as they started up the last flight of stairs. "I thought sex was supposed to be good exercise."

"You're clearly not doing it right," Sam mused, jogging up the last seven steps.

Dean scowled. _Show off._ "I do it just fine," he huffed. "Cas doesn't complain, that's for sure."

"But is he _satisfied,_" Sam wagged his eyebrows while he watched Dean puff up the remaining steps. Dani's eyes were closed; she had fallen sound asleep against Dean's shoulder.

"He's fucking _thrilled_. Just ask the neighbors."

Dean flushed when he spotted the realtor waiting just behind his gargantuan asshole of a brother. His cheeks burned when the woman stepped forward and offered her hand first to Sam, then him. He mumbled a greeting when she introduced herself.

"So, Dr. Winchester, is this the niece you've been telling me about?" She smiled at the baby but Dean could tell by the wary look in her eye she was reserving judgment on him. Which might have something to do with his self-proclaimed sexual prowess not five seconds ago.

"Yeah," Sam ran a hand down the sleeping baby's back. "This is my niece Danielle and my brother, Dean."

Dean shook her hand when she offered it, nodding once. _See? _He attempted to mind meld her (hey, it almost worked once in fourth grade with Mrs. Rhodes, the art teacher who caught him drawing boobies instead of Mt. Rushmore during 'free art' time.) He stared hard into her soft blue eyes. _I'm totally not a pervert. I'm totally not a pervert. My firefighter boyfriend is kind of a pervert, but then, I like that about him. In fact—_

Sam cleared his throat and cocked an eyebrow.

Dean dropped the realtor's hand. "Nice to meet you," he said gruffly.

The realtor (Nancy) showed them around the expansive apartment. It couldn't have looked more _Sam_ if it tried, all leather and chrome and glass in an open floor plan, tasteful art prints on the natural brick walls and a gleaming kitchen with black granite countertops. The wide windows looked out over the city, offering a beautiful view of the park. Dean could just make out the firestation where he knew Cas was currently holed up on shift, probably playing cards or _fuck_ maybe washing that big damn engine without a shirt on. (In Dean's wildest imagination, Cas had to wash the engines shirtless every day, no matter the temperature or weather.)

"So what do you think," Nancy asked serenely. She knew a sale when she saw one. She wasn't glimmering with so much as a single droplet of sweat.

"It's," Sam sighed, shaking his head in defeat. "It's perfect."

"I knew it," she said happily, impulsively grabbing his arm in a squeeze. "Would you like to follow me to my office to draw up the paperwork?"

Dean had to laugh at Sam's shell-shocked expression. "You'll have to excuse him, Nancy. He's not used to being a grown up."

Nancy smiled kindly. "No problem. How about you come by first thing in the morning, whenever you have a break at the hospital. Would that work?"

Sam nodded faintly. "Yeah, yeah. Thank you." He exhaled a long breath. "Wow. I'm," he swallowed. "Wow."

Dean chuckled and grabbed his elbow, steering him toward the front door. "Let's go buy too much bread and cake and then drop by the fire station so I can make a special delivery."

Sam snorted as they waited on the landing for Nancy to lock up. "Your tongue is not a special delivery, Dean."

Dean cocked one eyebrow. "I beg to differ," he sniffed. He bit his lip when Nancy winked at him from behind Sam's shoulder before she descended the stairs.

"Sam?"

Sam's head jerked around at the deep voice.

Dean eyeballed the man locking the other top-floor apartment, his smile an ounce too smooth, his gait a shade too cocky, dirty-blonde hair a study in casual disarray.

"What are you doing here," the man asked, his husky voice surprised and unless Dean was mistaken, a little too interested. His blue eyes twinkled in the light from an art deco lantern overhead.

"Lucifer," Sam managed, stepping instinctively closer to Dean.

Dean's mouth dropped open.

"And is this your brother? Dean?" Lucifer thrust a friendly hand forward, forcing Dean to accept the handshake or risk looking like an ass. "That would make this my niece, then, wouldn't it?"

Dean's arm tightened around the sleeping baby's back, but Lucifer showed no qualms about invading his personal space, pulling Dani from his arms and holding her aloft. She startled awake and began to cry.

Dean reached for her, but Lucifer drew her close to his chest, bouncing her gently and ignoring Dean's black expression.

"Are you going to be my neighbor then? How convenient," Lucifer said, eyes glinting with something Dean couldn't begin to sort out. Dani's lip thrust forward in a pout and she whimpered, eyes darting to Dean.

Sam cleared his throat and smoothly shoved a hand between the baby and Lucifer's chest, pulling her into his arms, patting her back to soothe her. "It looks that way," he said, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the way Lucifer attempted to steer him down the steps beside him. "I'll see you at the hospital," he said pointedly, turning to hand the baby to Dean.

"Yes, you will." Lucifer smiled, starting down the staircase. "Nice to meet you, Dean."

"Asshole," Dean growled under his breath and Sam grimaced, glad that Lucifer was out of earshot.

"See," he whispered. "I told you."

"Yes you did," Dean admitted, giving Sam a shove toward the stairs. "Let's go eat too much sugar now to recuperate."

Sam sighed. "Do you think I should look for something else," he asked mournfully.

"Hell no!" Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder. "He's not here permanently, right? Just ignore him. I plan to," he said grimly.

"Shit," Sam exhaled, stopping abruptly on the second floor landing. "He's like...your brother-in-law."

"Don't remind me," Dean muttered. "Now move. Cinnamon rolls."

...

Dean watched the kid behind the counter mix Sam's overcomplicated drink order. He texted Cas while he waited to pay. _Just met your brother Lucy. He sucks. _

His phone buzzed almost immediately.

**_Cas: _**_ Comes with the occupation. He has a God complex. Where are you?_

Dean smiled happily at the waitress who slid two boxes of yummy, home-baked goodness onto the counter for him. She blushed and hurried back through the swinging door of the kitchen.

**_Dean: _**_Sugar and Cream. Sam's apartment hunting._

**_Dean: _**_I'm in love._

**_Cas: _**_You better be referring to the baked goods and not the help. That espresso kid is a looker._

**_Dean: _**_AND YOU KNOW THIS HOW?_

**_Cas: _**_I may or may not have instructed the staff on the use of their fire extinguishers in the recent past. _

Dean frowned. Stupid overly helpful boyfriend.

The espresso kid in question slid Sam's cappuccino and Dean's black coffee into place beside the bakery boxes and began to ring him up.

**_Dean: _**_Oh look, here's espresso boy now. _

**_Dean: _**_You're right._

**_Cas: _**_Dean._

Dean grinned and didn't answer, paying for the overpriced treats without a bit of remorse. Good pastry was worth a little splurge.

**_Cas: _**_DEAN._

Dean sipped his coffee and slid the boxes onto the table where Sam and Dani were waiting. He tucked his phone into his pocket and sat down opposite Sam. They had decided to eat one gooey, yeasty treat inside the bakery, and take a box home for later.

A cute young waitress set Dani up with a highchair, cooing and fussing over the happy baby.

"She's so adorable," the girl sighed.

"Thank you," Dean grinned, preening.

"She doesn't look like you," the girl said thoughtfully, studying Dean's face.

Sam snorted. "She looks _just_ like her other dad, though."

"Oh," the girl said, eyes wide with surprise. "That's...kind of awesome."

Dean blushed and kicked Sam under the table. _Douchebag._

The girl leaned in close. "Did you mix the sperm up so it was a surprise," she whispered.

Dean choked on his coffee, startling Dani who paused in her in-depth perusal of the two tiny bites of cinnamon roll Dean had dropped on her tray.

"That's _exactly_ what they did," Sam offered cheekily. "How'd you guess?"

The girl swooned, clasping her hands to her chest. "That's so _romantic._"

Sam chuckled when the front door chimes rang and he nodded in that direction. "Speak of the devil."

Dean turned to find very disheveled firefighter navigating the small round tables in their direction, cheeks reddened from the cold and wind. He grinned when the girl nearly swooned again.

"Oh my," she murmured. "You're right."

Cas raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Did I miss something?" He glared at Dean. "And I'll deal with you later."

Dean didn't have time to protest before Cas was kissing him hello, using too much tongue to be strictly proper for public or even brother consumption. But he was smiling when Cas straightened.

"Hi there."

Cas grunted and bent over to kiss Dani's head, shoving Dean's chair to the left so he could wedge his own chair between the two. "What'd you get me?"

Dean slid his coffee over, one hand straying to the collar of Cas' standard issue navy button down. _So, no engine washing today,_ he sighed regretfully. "Cinnamon rolls."

Dani held one of Cas' fingers in her fist and he smiled when she brought it to her mouth and began to suck on it. "Don't you feed my baby while I'm at work? I swear, I leave you _one_ thing to handle on your own."

"Shut up," Dean groused, yanking on a too-long curl at the nape of Cas' neck. "She's eating a cinnamon roll."

"That's nutritious," Sam added helpfully. "It has bread in it."

"You're a doctor," Cas complained, slipping the baby's seatbelt free so he could pick her up. Her feet curled around each other so that her chunky legs crossed at the ankle. "You should at least _attempt _to exert a healthy influence over your Neanderthal brother."

"You've met my brother, right?" Sam took a large bite of his own roll, a string of white sugary glaze dripping from his chin.

"Who happens to be sitting right here," Dean pointed out. He straightened when espresso boy stopped at their table. The little waitress had disappeared. _Probably because of Cas' R-rated greeting,_ Dean thought.

"Hey, Cas," the boy said, eyes clearly trying to gauge the dynamic of their table.

"David," Cas nodded, smiling. "How's the coffee biz?"

The kid grinned, hands wide. "Good. Great, even. You want to take home some banana bread? New recipe we're trying out. Have plenty in the back."

"We'd love some," Dean cut in with a wide smile and a steely gaze.

David glanced between the two men, eyes settling on the baby. "Yeah. Okay. I'll go wrap it up." He began to back away. "Cute baby."

"Thank you, David," Cas said, his free hand squeezing Dean's thigh.

"You started it," Dean muttered. But he covered Cas' hand with his own and laced their fingers.

"He is cute though, right," Cas asked after a beat.

"Don't push it," Dean huffed, taking his coffee back. The ass could get his own caffeine.

Sam laughed, watching the two of them. "I think David might be in the back crying into the muffin pans."

"Nah," Cas said, nuzzling Dani's cheek. "I spent most of the time I was here bitching about Dean."

"Hey," Dean said around a mouthful of roll. "What'd I do?"

"Well, for starters, you weren't letting me into your pants yet."

"Oh geez," Sam muttered, lifting the cup to his lips. "Forget I said anything. Please."

"Sorry, Sam, that our epic gay romance far outshines your own," Dean replied merrily.

Cas squeezed his hand again before releasing it and passing the baby to Dean. "I better get back." He kissed the baby and then Dean and then the baby again, causing Dean to laugh and push him away.

"Stop, before I start keeping score."

"Don't eat all the banana bread before I get home."

"Yes boss," Dean murmured, tipping his face back.

Cas shook his head and dodged Dean's grasp. "Nope. That's for not texting me back."

"Asshole," Dean breathed.

"Bye, Sam."

"Bye, Cas," Sam waved. He watched Dean watch Cas exit the building. "So, home?"

Dean nodded, smiling kindly at David when he unceremoniously plopped down two white bakery boxes on top of the two they already had. Dean felt a spurt of sympathy for the kid. He couldn't help it he was crushing on the tall, sexy piece of firefighter ass that was currently striding across the street away from the bakery. Hell, as far as Dean could tell, everyone with a pulse fell at Cas' feet either in abject adoration or plain old lust. It would take some getting used to, but it was still Dean who got to keep the prize at the end of the day.

"Yup, let's go home, Sammy."

When they pulled into the drive and Sam didn't make any move to leave, Dean leaned across the seat, a sleeping Dani under a blanket to protect her from the cold. "You want to stay over? I can make up the couch."

Sam exhaled. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I might."

Dean straightened. "Well come on, then. Let's watch bad TV while Dani has her nap."

Sam switched off the engine and followed Dean up the walk, carrying the multiple bakery boxes. "But I'm not watching Dancing with the Stars reruns again."

"Fine," Dean said as he unlocked the door. "How do you feel about Teen Wolf?"

"Oh my God," Sam groaned. "Seriously, Dean. I worry about you sometimes."

"Let me tell you about a little thing called _Sterek,_" Dean grinned.

Sam took a deep breath and followed him into the house, glad for the banana bread and extra cinnamon rolls. He had a feeling he was going to need the sustenance.

...


	17. Chapter 17

"So we're supposed to just _accept_ that the lizard thing forced them into the pool," Sam asked skeptically. "Convenient."

Dean tossed a cashew into the air and caught it in his mouth. "Note how they remain clothed though. Keeps the sexual tension at a tastefully frustrating level."

"Because there might possibly be a valid reason they need to rip their clothes off," Sam said drily. "While one of them is partially paralyzed."

Dean snatched the bowl of snack mix from Sam's lap. "You obviously don't appreciate riveting TV."

"Does Cas watch this crap?"

"Oh, hell yeah," Dean said enthusiastically. "He's got a thing for Stiles." He squirmed on the couch. "For some reason he says he reminds him of me."

"Because you're a giant spaz," Sam supplied helpfully.

Dean beaned him with a pretzel.

"And you, Dean? Do _you_ have a _thing_ for any of the characters?" Sam grinned as he watched Dean's cheeks pinken.

"Oh come on," Dean huffed. "You gotta admit the alpha male thing is hot. I mean, _fuck_."

"I'm starting to understand what attracted you to Cas, actually," Sam chuckled.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I wear the pants in this household. I _am_ the alpha."

"Uh huh. Mr. Mom."

"Shut up." He punched Sam in the shoulder for emphasis.

"When do you go back?"

"Monday," Dean sighed. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I almost wish I had asked for December off too. Taken the entire six weeks."

"You still can," Sam offered, snagging the bowl back while Dean was busy sulking.

"It's okay," Dean shrugged. "I'll probably need the sick days later and I don't want to pay for a sub for that long, if I don't really need to."

"And you still think the school daycare is the way to go?" Sam's tone was dubious. The high school down the road from Dean's building had a daily child care program, where upperclassman earned a child care certification while they participated in the care of the infants and toddlers as part of their coursework.

"It's literally _right there,_" Dean replied. "I could be there in two minutes if I needed to. And they're very well supervised, there are two certified teachers and twelve junior and senior students." He winked at Sam. "And it's all videotaped as part of their curriculum."

Sam laughed. "Ah, so now the unvarnished truth comes out. You always did have a streak of paranoia a mile wide."

"Do not."

"Do too." Sam nudged his thigh, shushing him. "Next episode."

Dean grinned. "Addictive, right?"

"Whatever. Just hit play."

...

Dean was sitting in the corner of the couch reading Dani a story when Sam returned from a food run. The baby reached for the book as he read, Dean pulling it out of her grasp with each lunge just before she could catch hold of the pages.

"They make those board books, she couldn't tear them up." Sam set the bags of food and groceries on the floor by the coffee table.

Dean grunted, and Dani took advantage of his momentary distraction to squeeze a corner of the book in her fist. Dean peeled her fingers back. "She likes this one."

Sam shrugged, grinning. "I have one more thing in the car. Be right back."

"Jesus. How much food did you buy?" Dean frowned in consternation. "You're not living here, remember," he called. "You have that fancy pants apartment downtown now!"

He ignored the lewd gesture as Sam crossed in front of the living room window. "Uncle Sammy is a moody bitchface when he's hungry, baby girl."

Dani brought the corner of the book to her mouth and gnawed on it.

"Oh okay, slobber face. This is a family heirloom." Dean grinned and set the book aside, grimacing at the damp corner. He scooted off the couch and onto the floor to begin sorting through the bags. He sat Dani beside him, her back against the sofa. She weaved only slightly before she found her center of balance and reached for one of the white plastic bags.

Dean snatched it away just in time. "Nope."

He had a brief flash of panic and glanced around the room. There were choking hazards _everywhere._ Dani would be mobile before they knew it. They should probably get started on baby proofing, like, yesterday.

Sam's large frame filled the doorway as he struggled to wedge a huge colorful box in ahead of himself. "A little help would be nice."

"I'm watching the baby," Dean said cheerfully, chuckling as Sam caught a knuckle between the box and the frame and cursed under his breath. "Nice job with the censoring."

"Fuck you," Sam huffed, finally squeezing through the door and dropping the box to the carpet.

"Uncle Sammy is going to get his mouth washed out with dish soap, Dani."

"I'd like to see you try." Sam tossed his keys on the entry table and kicked the front door shut.

Dean's eyes held a glint of challenge in them when he replied. "I've done it before."

"And earned yourself a knee to the balls, as I remember." Sam sat on the floor beside the baby, picking her up and kissing her cheek. She smiled wide, flashing her bottom teeth and he chuckled. "Little flirt."

Dean was nosing through the bags, frowning at the odd assortment of takeout Chinese, jars of baby food, and fresh produce. "What is all this crap?"

"Dinner," Sam said cheerfully, holding the baby out to Dean. Her pink-socked feet dangled mid air and she gurgled happily. "Here."

Dean took her, unable to hold back an answering grin when she kicked excitedly. Her overalls had the tiniest denim ruffle along the top of the bib and her onesie matched her socks. _Goddamn_ she was cute.

"Seriously. I made the cutest baby in existence."

Sam snorted, ripping the packing tape from the large box. "You didn't make her."

"Close enough," Dean stated. He studied the box, a generic cheerful baby on the outer cover sitting in some sort of round contraption. "What is that? Are those monkeys?"

"It's a new-fangled baby walker. Except it doesn't move, she can just bounce around in it."

"That doesn't sound safe," Dean said skeptically as Sam began to remove the pieces from the box.

"Not literally _around_, Dean. It's stationary. But it allows her to sit up, or stand even. She can be beside you while you grade papers. It has little toys, see?" He held out the monkey in question.

"It _is_ a monkey." Dean frowned.

"What do you have against monkeys? You always liked Curious George." Sam unwrapped the parts and carefully tucked the plastic wrapping back in the box. The exercise seat was mostly put together; he just had to attach the toys and the base.

"They smell funny. And they use their own poop as a weapon." He kissed Dani's cheek absently.

"So do babies, sometimes," Sam laughed. He tightened the last leg and held out his arms. "Give her to me."

"No." Dean held her tighter, still eyeing the baby seat dubiously.

"Dean. Give her to me."

Dean grumbled, but passed the smiling baby over the edge of the coffee table. Sam maneuvered her feet through the brown and cream zebra print leg holes. The baby studied the colorful assortment of toys on the attached tray.

"See. She hates it. It's overstimulation." He crooked his fingers. "Give her back."

"Give her a minute," Sam murmured, waving Dean aside when he moved to take the baby.

Dani touched a colorful swirl of beads and the pieces rattled together. She kicked excitedly, grabbing at the beads and rattling them again. Her rosebud mouth pursed in concentration as she investigated the next toy piece. Her legs were not quite long enough to touch the base, toes just grazing the base of the seat, and she bounced gently, suspended.

"See," Sam said triumphantly. "She likes it."

"Hmph," Dean sniffed. "I still say it's too much. Blocks. Balls. Books. What's the matter with simple toys?"

"Yeah, okay, grandpa Winchester. Your objections are duly noted."

"I can still go get the dish soap, dickhead."

"Let's eat first. I don't want to kick your ass on an empty stomach."

Dean snorted. "Like that would ever happen." He passed one of the food sacs to Sam, pulling out a jar of baby food. "Why'd you get so many? She eats like two good spoonfuls."

"I didn't know what she liked. I thought we could test out a bunch of them."

Sam began to set out an assortment of baby food flavors. He jumped up to go to the kitchen for utensils, passing Dean a spoon when he returned. The first jar he chose was strained chicken.

Dean recoiled. "She's not eating that. It smells rank."

"It's a good protein source." Sam spooned up a tiny bit and grimaced.

"See," Dean said triumphantly. "Meat should _not_ be pureed. It's against the laws of nature."

"Whatever." Sam couldn't suppress a shudder. "We can still try out these other flavors."

Dean pointed to the tiny glass jar of chicken. "Throw that in the trash. And what are those?" Dean pointed to the produce bags.

"The real food equivalents. I thought you could at least attempt to make her food from scratch, see if the taste is better. I'm sure it will be, along with a higher quality nutrient value, if you—"

"Oh for the love of God," Dean groaned. "Would you shut up and pass me the jar of apple cobbler?"

Sam ignored the jibe and examined the jars, passing the dessert to Dean.

Dean happily twisted off the top and scooped out a spoonful. He grunted. "Keep."

"Why do I get the feeling you've already tried that one," Sam asked drily.

"Shut up and eat your sweet potatoes."

Dani slapped the tray of the saucer, rattling the toys. Dean scooted the seat closer and dipped into the applesauce again. He made a swirling motion with the spoon and Sam smiled to himself as he watched his brother feed the baby a taste of the dessert.

She smushed the puree around on her tongue, face drawn up tentatively as she tested the texture and the flavor. When she sucked her lower lip into her mouth and grinned, Dean looked at Sam with a raised brow. _See? That's my girl._

"Oh, can it," Sam scoffed, tasting the sweet potatoes. He nodded his head. "Not bad. Needs something."

"Salt and butter," Dean offered, mouth working in tandem with Dani's as he fed her another bite.

"You have a blender, right? I can show you how to mix some of these up tonight."

"What happened to Teen Wolf marathon," Dean asked, disappointed.

"I'm offering you the opportunity to make your baby organic, freshly prepared food. Priorities, Dean."

"This isn't a slumber party, Nancy. Why don't _you_ make organic, freshly prepared baby food for your _only niece_ in that fancy new kitchen?" Dean nodded enthusiastically. Perfect. That way he didn't have to cook _or_ clean up.

"I don't think that's a precedent I'm all too eager to set."

"Well, it's your fault for dumping the closest thing we had to a gourmet chef," Dean pointed out, grinning when Dani made a face at a taste of sweet potato from Sam's spoon. "We could have sicced Gabe on this project and then _both_ sat back and reaped the parenting rewards."

"Sensitive, Dean. Thanks." Sam slumped against the couch. "And I haven't _dumped_ him."

"Yet," Dean muttered, rubbing the baby's face clean with a wet wipe before she smeared orange goo all over her cheeks. She scowled at him in fury and he chuckled. "Don't give me that look, princess. You'll thank me later when we're not picking dried sweet potatoes out of your eyebrows."

She began to fuss, rubbing her eyes. Her cries escalated rapidly when Dean didn't immediately pick her up.

"Someone's already spoiled," Sam laughed.

"You can't spoil a baby," Dean said, shooting him a warning glare. He couldn't help but smile at Dani's angry little pout, her cheeks puffing as she drew in a breath large enough to really wail. "She's pretty cute when she's mad, though, right?" He nuzzled her cheek and pointed at the diaper bag by the door.

Sam rolled his eyes but retrieved the bag for Dean and watched in amusement as Dean changed her diaper (a messy one, even) without so much as a flinch or a grimace. "Want me to heat her a bottle?"

"Sure," Dean said, holding the baby close to his chest, unconsciously swaying. "There are some already mixed up in the fridge."

In the kitchen, Sam heated a pan of water on the stove, the bottle sitting in the water. He watched the pan thoughtfully; it was just like Dean to choose something old-fashioned and comfortable like glass bottles. Even considering the energy he expended making fun what he called '_Sam's causes'_ (although there was nothing wrong with caring about the environment and being conscious of waste), Dean was pretty selfless and altruistic in his own right. Sam could totally accept Dean preferring to wash glass bottles over tossing endless plastic baggies.

Sam's phone vibrated and he pulled it from his front pocket. He frowned at the unknown number next to a picture message.

**_Unknown caller:_**_ Have you ever seen a raunchier mitral valve?"_

The attached photo had clearly been taken mid-surgery, sutures visible.

Sam snorted. Only Lucifer would pause for a photo op.

**_Sam: _**_Your sutures are sloppy._

**_Unknown caller: _**_I hear there's a resident with the hands of an artist and the face of an angel. Unfortunately he's not scrubbed in. Or present. _

Sam bit his lip, torn. On the one hand, _Danger!_ C_learly flirting!_ And on the other, _mitral valve replacement surgery. _Dammit. He had only assisted with one before, cardiac surgeries not being part of his concentration.

**_Sam: _**_He would have been if he had known there was a valve replacement on the dock._

**_Unknown caller: _**_He should check the call sheets._

Sam started to type a flip response, when his phone range. Gabe's name lighting up on the screen.

"Shit," he breathed, heart pounding with guilt. "Hey."

"Dr. Winchester," Gabe began. "I have developed this rash."

Sam chuckled in spite of his current state of inner turmoil. He leaned a hip against the counter. "I see. Have you changed soap recently? Fabric softener?"

Gabe huffed. "No, dammit. I changed boyfriends."

"Changed, huh." Sam frowned, the tiniest spike of jealousy heating his blood. "Changed to who?"

"You, dumbass. Where are you?"

Sam picked up the bottle and shook it gently, testing it on his wrist. "Dean's. Playing with the baby."

"Hmmm. Is Dani there too?"

Sam laughed. "Yes and I can hear her revving her engines in the next room, demanding I finish heating this bottle."

"Are you standing over the stove, Sammy," Gabe murmured. "Are you wearing an apron? Please God tell me you're wearing an apron."

"I'm wearing an apron." Sam grinned, nerves easing into the smooth, affectionate territory Gabe had a tendency to augment.

"Fuck me," Gabe breathed. "Now I have an image to take to bed with me."

Sam flipped the burner to off, chewing his lip again. "Alone?" He didn't know why, but after avoiding the issue all day, suddenly he _wanted_ Gabe to ask for him.

"Yup. More room for activities." Gabe's voice dipped decidedly into _leer_ territory on the last word and Sam's overheated imagination went into overdrive.

"Ok, now I've got a mental image to take to bed with _me,_" he muttered.

"That was the general idea, doc," Gabe said drily. "Night, Sam."

Sam cleared his throat, wondering if he was turning into a self-centered dick. Now he was starting to get paranoid; Gabe wasn't even going to _ask_ where he was planning on sleeping. Sam could be sleeping, literally, _anywhere_, and Gabe had yet to question that.

What the fuck was that?

"It's pretty early," he said in a rush. "You going to bed already?"

"Nope. Gonna watch a few Deadliest Catch episodes before I hit the sack. You?"

Sam squirmed, shaking the bottle gently again. "Um, Teen Wolf?"

Gabe howled and Sam had to pull the phone away from his ear. "Oh God, _Dean._ He's hopeless, you know?"

"I know," Sam grinned. "It's surprisingly good, though. Even without all the gratuitous shirt removals."

"Spare me, hotshot. No one on the planet has a better shoulder to hip ratio than you."

Sam felt his cheeks heat. He knew he should mention the apartment, but he really didn't want to have that conversation over the phone. And maybe he didn't want to have quite the conversation he had been half-planning anyway.

He was pretty damn confused now.

"You still there?"

Sam coughed. "Yup. Just thinking. I'll talk to you tomorrow? I think I'm going to sleep on the couch. Cas is on shift."

"Eh, give your brain a rest," Gabe said softly, in a swift switch of tone that hit Sam right in the center of his chest. "Don't think too hard. You overanalyze things, doc. Give my niece a kiss for me."

"I will," Sam said, smiling when he hung up.

"You gonna stand there grinning at that bottle all night, or do you mind if I cut in?" Dean was bouncing the fussy baby against his shoulder. Dani sucked ferociously on her fist, the noise smacking loudly across the kitchen.

Sam rolled his eyes and tossed Dean the bottle.

"Glass, Sammy," Dean complained, although he caught it easily.

"Keeping your reflexes sharp, old man." Sam poured the pan of water into the sink and followed Dean and the baby into the living room. Dean kicked back in the recliner, Dani snuggled tight into the crook of his arm. Her eyelashes were thick, dark swaths across her pink cheeks.

"She's going to miss the next episode," Sam joked.

Dean hummed. "Mmmm, she's too little to be ogling hot bods anyway," he murmured. He winked at Sam. "I'm not though. Press play, douchebag."

Sam chuckled and grabbed the remote, choosing a box of Chinese and a fork from the coffee table. He settled into the corner of the couch, pulling a throw over his legs.

"And don't eat all the fried rice," Dean grumbled, low so as not to disturb the relaxed baby.

"No worries, there's plenty of pureed chicken and sweet potatoes left," Sam grinned.

Dean flipped him off and went back to watching his girl fall asleep against his chest. That was better than half-naked alpha male werewolves, anyway.

...

When Cas walked through the front door a little after three a.m., it was to a full living room. A DVD had finished playing at some point but there had obviously been no one awake to turn off the TV. The light gave the room a soft blue glow.

Sam was stretched out on the couch, forearm thrown over his face, a blanket haphazardly covering most of his legs. One of the recliners was kicked back full tilt and held the two favored members of Cas' little family. Dean was sound asleep, his handsome face relaxed, one hand protectively holding the sleeping baby to his chest. Dani was cuddled against him on her tummy, face towards Cas so that he could just make out her pretty features in the dim light.

Cas smiled tiredly while he hung up his jacket and kicked off his boots. Clearly he had missed a raucous party. A glance at the coffee table gave him all the information he needed to make a sound assessment of the night's activities: five beer bottles, an empty baby bottle with milk residue in the bottom, several jars of baby food in varying states of fullness, and Chinese takeout boxes. He yawned, studying the pair in the recliner. What he _really_ wanted to do was take Dean to bed, but he looked so content. He bent over the recliner, carefully sliding his hands under the baby's stomach so that he could lift her to his shoulder.

Dean immediately stirred, hand tightening around Dani's back. "Wha—"

"Shhh," Cas whispered, patting the baby when she whimpered. She let out the softest of sighs, relaxing against him and he kissed her downy head. "I'm going to put her down."

Dean scrubbed his face with his hands. "Time's it," he slurred. He released the recliner's footrest and stood, stretching.

"A little after three," Cas whispered. "I got off a little early. Come to bed?"

Dean caught him before he could step around the coffee table and kissed him softly. "Hurry."

Cas smiled. "I can do that." He nodded toward the other man sleeping so soundly in their living room. "What'd I miss here?"

"I'll tell you in the morning," Dean whispered back, guiding Cas' hips with his hands.

Cas paused by the bedroom door. "Why, what happened?"

Dean pushed him again. "Go put the baby down first." His changed his mind and pulled Cas close again, causing the other man to chuckle.

"You have to let go of my ass before I can actually do that, Dean."

Dean ignored him and kissed the back of his neck, reaching up with one hand to pull down the neckline of his navy tee to grant more access. "Mmm, just a taste." He sucked lightly on the skin and grinned when Cas shivered.

"You should probably stop that," Cas said, movements belying the words when he pressed harder against Dean's chest.

Dean stepped back reluctantly. "Baby. Bed. Now." He pointed, arm outstretched.

Cas exhaled. "Fuck. You're a cocktease, Winchester. You know that?"

Dean chuckled, yawning sleepily. "It's not teasing if I make good on it."

"Promises, promises." Cas' soft voice carried through the doorway as he laid Dani in her bed.

Dean stripped off his t-shirt and was in the process of unbuttoning his fly when two hands snaked around his waist, catching his wrists.

"Let me help with that."

"You sure? I've got years of experience." Dean rubbed back against Cas at hip level, smiling at the other man's indrawn breath.

"You should be still," Cas murmured, releasing Dean's wrists so he could dip his hands into his half-opened fly. He pushed Dean's hips flush against his own and rocked against him.

Dean groaned, head falling back against Cas' shoulder. Cas took advantage of the skin this new angle provided and sucked lightly along his jaw. He slipped the remaining buttons free and nudged the denim out of his way, both hands cupping Dean, gently working up and down his hardness.

"_Fuck_, Cas." Dean thought fleetingly that he should probably do something with his hands other than grasp fistfuls of Cas' pants, but his mind wasn't working at full capacity. Cas was pinging every single pleasure point in his body at once and it wrecked havoc with his senses; all he could do now was hang on. He hissed when Cas peeled the waist of his boxers away so he could slide cool fingers inside, the rough slide of callous on tender skin almost too much. He was so hard it hurt and he winced when a whimper escaped.

_"God,_ I'm such a slut for your hands, baby," he laughed on a gasp.

"That's okay," Cas murmured around a mouthful of Dean's neck, soothing the bite with a lick. "They're a slut for your dick."

Dean snorted, panting when Cas' hand closed around him and pulled in one long, slow stroke. "I'm going to die, just like this. Aren't I?"

"I hope so," Cas whispered, stroking again, so slow it was torture, he could see that by the way Dean's hips snapped forward, trying to increase the friction.

Dean's knees nearly buckled on a hard wave of pleasure and Cas had to catch him tight around the waist with one arm.

"You okay there, Mr. Winchester?" He tongued the groove just in front of Dean's earlobe, teasing the soft dangle of flesh between his teeth.

"Holy mother of _Christ_," Dean moaned when Cas pressed a fingertip to his slit, cradling the head of his cock in the circle of his thumb and forefinger. "Bed, Cas, _please._"

"Mm mmm." Cas shook his head, tucking his chin over Dean's shoulder and watching his hand move over the satiny smooth skin. "Just like this." He released his waist so he could cup his other hand into his boxers, massage lower, spreading the sensations.

_"Fuck, fuck, fuck," _Dean gasped, jerking as he came over Cas' fist, digging his fingers into his pants, tight enough to burn.

Cas smiled, hands wet and messy as they eased him through the waves, slowing when Dean sighed, relaxing against him, boneless. He wiped his hand on Dean's half removed boxers and then nudged the garment lower. "Get undressed and I'll clean you up."

Dean shook his head, eyes closed, fingers still grasping fistfuls of Cas' canvas pants. "I'm not moving. Ever."

Cas chuckled and bit his jaw. He wrapped his arms around his waist and ground his hips into Dean's butt, his own hardness clearly evident. "I can work with that."

Dean squirmed, jeans sliding down his thighs. "Are we _going_ to bed tonight? Or is this a standing room only party?"

Cas released him reluctantly. "Bed." He grinned when Dean turned and cupped him with one hand while he shook off his jeans. "Find something to hold on to there?"

Dean winked. "For balance." He squeezed Cas gently, liking the way his eyes sparked in the dark. He was hard, impossibly so, beneath the snug pants. When Dean had kicked his boxers free he started to walk Cas backwards toward the bed.

He pushed Cas' tee up and over his head, tossing it to the floor.

"Lie down," he instructed gruffly.

Cas lifted on eyebrow at Dean's hoarse command but did as he was told. His heart fluttered in anticipation. Demanding Dean was fucking _hot._

Dean waved a hand, motioning for Cas to scoot up the bed before he crawled up after him, kneeling over his hips. He dropped a kiss to Cas' belly, tongue teasing his navel, smiling at the answering goosebumps that rose on the pale skin. He licked him again, trailing down to the edge of his waistband.

Cas' breath hitched and he reached for Dean, groaning when Dean dodged his hands. "I'll just be up here, then." He tucked his hands behind his head and watched Dean, eyes heavy-lidded.

Dean grinned. "Perfect because I'll be down here." He released the top button of Cas' pants, smoothing his finger down the bulge straining against his fly.

"_Dean,_" Cas exhaled.

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean continued the slide of his fingertip along the seam of his crotch, nudging as far as he could go, and then back, so slow Cas ' thighs tightened in anticipation.

"It's fucking _four a.m_. you ass. Get on with it."

Dean repeated the motion, slowing out of spite over the most sensitive flesh. "I had a nap," he shrugged with a grin.

"Well, I didn't," Cas growled, voice gravelly and strained as he pulled at the bedcovers under his head.

"You can sleep in tomorrow." Dean blew against the still-damp skin of his belly, tongue swiping against the areas newly exposed by Cas' open fly.

Cas groaned again in response, louder this time.

"Shh," Dean whispered, kissing the waistband of his boxers, peeling them back until he could mouth at the head of his cock. "Too many sleeping people, baby. You're going to have to be quiet."

"I can't," Cas gasped, head twisting on the pillow. "_Fuck, _Dean."

Dean grinned. "That's my new life motto." He sat up, chuckling at Cas' furious glare. "I'll get back to it, babe. Let's lose the pants, yeah?"

"Yes, _God, _yes_._" Cas lifted his hips and sighed in relief when Dean worked the garments from his hips, throwing them over the side of the bed.

Dean kneeled between his legs, spreading his thighs wider. "I love you, just like this," he murmured, kissing the inside of each leg.

"I love _you,_ just like that," Cas quipped, panting when Dean bit him in playful retaliation. "Careful where you put those teeth, Winchester."

"Don't move, then."

Cas wiggled in response, for the hell of it.

Dean teased the base of his cock with a light nip, grinning when Cas nearly came off the bed. "I warned you."

"Are you hard again yet, because I have things I _need to do to you._"

Dean chuckled, mouth and hands toying with all of him, caressing, sliding along the warm soft skin, until Cas was writhing, fingers tugging at Dean's hair.

"If you don't get your mouth on me, so help me _God—"_ The words broke off on a deep, low groan when Dean finally sucked him down.

Dean held his hips stationary against the bed, ignoring the sharp pulls at his hairline, loving that Cas was gone, lost. He had actually had a different endgame planned for his fireman tonight, but this worked too. As often happened, Dean couldn't resist him, the smell and the taste of _Cas_ filling his mouth and nose, too tantalizing, too good.

Cas gasped a warning, but Dean ignored him. It wasn't his favorite part, but it wasn't horrible either, and Cas had done it enough for him that he wanted it. He wanted to return the almost painfully amazing feeling of soft lips and gentle tongue guiding Cas through his orgasm, and then blanketing his sensitivity with the most intimate of kisses.

Cas tugged at his ears when he was finished and he pressed one more sweet kiss to his abdomen before he crawled up his body. Cas manhandled him into prime cuddling position and he chuckled, laugh cut off when Cas kissed him deep.

"You're amazing," Cas whispered against his lips. "Thank you."

Dean smiled and kissed him softly. "You're welcome. I love you."

Cas shuddered, pulling him tight against his chest, fingers firmly weaving through the hair at Dean's nape. "Love you," he murmured.

Dean was just dozing off when he felt more than heard Cas whisper against his forehead, "I'm never getting out of this bed again."

He chuckled and squeezed his waist. "I'll support your habit, if you support mine."

Cas grunted happily. He could absolutely do that.

...

There was no fire, no smoke, and Cas exhaled in relief, blinking rapidly. He shook off the remnants of the dream; the light in the room was already bright, indicating mid-morning or mid-afternoon. He scrubbed his face, breathing deep. He hadn't had a nightmare in weeks. This was different though, not a true nightmare, no lingering terror; just a sense of smoke and darkness, and the bitter taste of fear on his tongue. Fear for Dean, for Dani.

He hadn't been able to find them, the smoke too thick, the heat too oppressive.

He stared at the ceiling, willing his heart to stop pounding against his ribcage, thoughts straying to places he hadn't let them go last night.

There was a reason he had gotten off so early; a fire in an older neighborhood, small shoebox homes on neatly tended lots, mostly elderly couples and young families. There had only been one occupant of the swiftly burning home, and they had been too late to save her.

Cas and Jeff had been the ones to find the body, on the floor of her bedroom where she had collapsed, overcome by the heavy smoke. Perhaps she had had a smoke detector, but its peal had not been loud enough for her to hear, deep in sleep in the middle of the night. They would have to wait for the investigation to be complete to know for sure.

The neighbors said she was a widow. Close to eighty. Her name was Sadie and she baked the best peanut butter cookies any of them had ever eaten. She made caramel apples for the neighborhood trick-or-treaters and she had been married to her high school sweetheart, Harvey, for fifty-nine years before he passed away last spring in his sleep.

It was moments like that one, when he was covering the charred remains of a kind and beloved woman who had died alone, terrified, when Cas craved nothing more than to be back up in the Sherpa, kneeling in the bay until he got the go ahead to fall, to let the brutal rush of air and the rapidly approaching ground rip all thought, all feeling, from his mind. Freefalling, _absolute_, until the moment the chute burst forth, dragging him back to reality, guiding him to earth.

He sighed, the dream almost gone now. _For Sadie_, he thought. He had the dream this time for Sadie.

He could hear sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen. He peeked under the sheet that covered him from the hip down and confirmed he would probably need to locate some pants before he ventured out lest Dean drag him right back here to bed.

And he was too hungry for that.

Although the thought did bear remembering for the future.

He found a pair of pajama pants in the dresser and padded out to the kitchen. Dean's back was to him, bent over the table and his fists were kneading something in a bowl. He could hear the low murmur of voices from the living room, along with the intermittent sounds of an action flick. The TV, then. Sam must have gone to work.

"Please tell me that's lunch."

Dean glanced back with a surprised smile. "Hey, you're up." He wiped his hands on a nearby towel and reached for Cas. He kissed him deeply, hands tugging at the waistband of the pants he was wearing. "Not food, sorry. And you've been in my drawers again."

"I _like_ your drawers," Cas growled the innuendo, palming Dean's butt for good measure. He stepped out of his arms reluctantly. The denim of Dean's jeans was a little too much friction for his just-woken and thinly covered groin. "Well if that's not sustenance, what are you up to?"

The bowl was filled with something that looked like bread dough, a mostly smooth and rounded lump.

"Edible modeling clay," Dean pronounced proudly, pinching off a small piece. He held it close to Cas' mouth. "Taste?"

"Pass," Cas said drily, but he smiled. "I will, however, eat whatever else you don't have tacked down. I'm starving."

Dean popped the bite of dough in his mouth and chewed, wrinkling his nose after a moment. "Needs sugar."

Cas took a quick step forward, surging against him. Dean caught him, off balance and laughing, hip knocking against the corner of the table. "Ow, Cas, geez." He didn't get to finish because Cas was sucking into his mouth, hands shoving under his t-shirt, gripping him hard and a little desperate. "Babe, wait," Dean chuckled breathlessly, trying to come up for air. "What's got into you?" He held Cas close, rubbing hands in soothing circles on his bare back.

Cas pulled at Dean's hair, twisting his head back so he could suck at his throat. "I have always wanted you," he rasped low, shoving a knee between Dean's legs.

Dean's pulse ratcheted up, part worry, part lust. "Cas," he said, holding the other man's face gently. "What is it?"

Cas' breath shuddered and he dropped his forehead to Dean's. They stood there a long moment, Dean holding him, waiting, feeling like he had missed some important plot point, a page missing from this chapter.

"Sorry," Cas whispered before he placed a tender kiss to Dean's lips. His eyes were shadowed when he lifted his head and Dean's heart twisted anxiously.

"Don't be sorry," Dean said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere." He pulled at his hips, unwilling to let go. "You want to tell me about it?"

Cas shook his head. "Bad dream," he said, shrugging out of Dean's embrace. "It happens. Trade liability." He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of orange juice.

Dean watched him fill a glass and drink it all in one go, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand when he finished, avoiding Dean's eyes.

"What kind of dream," Dean asked. He took the pitcher from Cas' hands and set it back in the fridge, pulling out eggs and sausages, butter and jam. He nudged Cas aside so he could turn on the stove.

"What are you up to" Cas murmured, changing the subject, Dean's confident movements about the kitchen hypnotic. Although, everything Dean did was rather hypnotic to him.

"I'm ensuring you don't starve," Dean winked casually.

Cas let himself crowd against Dean's back, draping his arms around his waist. He dropped a kiss to the back of his neck. "I'm sorry," he mumbled again, mouth tucked against his nape.

Dean let the heavy, solid weight of Cas seep into his bones. "Stop apologizing," he murmured tilting his head so he could rub their jaws together. It stung, the bite of stubble against his recently shaved cheek, and he liked it. A lot.

"Okay," Cas breathed. He backed away. "You feed me and then I'm going to help you make edible clay Deans and Cas'. And then we're going to do a little thing I like to call stop motion porno."

Dean laughed at Cas' leer. "Wow, way to take my lesson planning into an entirely new frontier." He flipped a sausage over, and his stomach rumbled. He hadn't had lunch yet either, absorbed in his experiment. And the baby had gone down for a nap just moments before Cas awoke.

They ate sitting across from one another at the table, and Dean sighed in relief when the color returned to Cas' cheeks. His mouth twisted in a grin when a toe snuck under the hem of his jeans, cold against his calf. He caught the foot between his ankles.

"You just sit over there and eat your toast," he motioned with his fork. "And you need socks," he grumbled, scooping up the last bite of eggs.

"Someone forgot to fold laundry," Cas said gruffly, twisting his foot free. "You need to take your pants off."

Dean snorted. "Ok, I'll bite. Why do I need to take my pants off? I'm fully dressed. You're the one in PJ's at noon."

"Because it's unbalanced. I'm wearing only bottoms. You should only be wearing a top."

"And you're not wearing any underwear, how do we balance that," Dean smirked.

Cas chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing on Dean's face.

"Good point. Take off your pants _and _your underwear."

Dean choked on his sip of juice. Cas continued to chew, unconcerned. Dean wiped at his watery eyes with his napkin. "Are you sure you got enough sleep?"

Cas shrugged. "I could use a nap," he said, looking at Dean' through his lashes.

"Oh no," Dean shook his head. "Don't start that sexy fireman crap with me. I have to finish my lesson plans and make this clay, and—Cas!"

Cas' foot had planted itself precisely in the center of Dean's crotch.

"Hmm?"

Dean reached down and shoved the ice-cold toes back to the floor. "Socks, now." He pointed at the hall.

Cas pushed away from the table, stretching.

Dean's mouth watered, to match his eyes.

Cas rounded the table and bent to give Dean a long kiss. "Thanks for brunch, Winchester."

Dean smiled and groped his butt. "Anytime, Fireman Novak."

Cas grinned and sauntered across the kitchen. He turned back at the hall. "Dean."

Dean glanced up, dishes in hand. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

Dean's heart twisted. "I love you, too."

Cas smiled. "Good." He disappeared down the hall and Dean frowned. Whatever had been bothering him, be it the dream or something else, it seemed Cas was going to keep it to himself for a while longer yet.

Dean would have to be patient.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Author's Note: **__Thank you for reading, you wonderful people! Your comments and pm's always make me very happy that I decided to share this story! It started out as my own little amusing (and sexy) anecdote to Lost Souls and has evolved into a monster of fluff. It's a fluff monster. I'm not sorry. _

_..._

On Dean's first day back to work, he was torn from sleep by hands and lips and tongue, already aroused, already halfway to orgasm, befuddled by the sex and heat swamping his senses. It was the best kind of bleary-eyed confusion, and his favorite way to face the day, and Cas damn well knew it.

Cas, who was already supposed to be at the fire station.

Cas, who was dressed in his navy tee and navy pants and had one of Dean's bare legs thrown over his shoulder so he could place filthy open-mouthed kisses in places Dean should probably be squeamish about but could only moan his approval over.

It was over almost before Dean was fully awake.

"Christ," he gasped, trembling.

"No, it's Cas."

Dean chuckled, panting and satiated, the morning air cooling his sweaty skin and damp groin.

Cas kissed the dip below his bellybutton and propped a fist under his chin with a satisfied grin. "Good morning."

"You're supposed to be at work." Dean smiled, sighing happily. _Damn_ he was pretty, all dark messy hair (hard to keep a straight part when Dean's knees had just been wrapped around his temples) and deep blue eyes. He still lay between Dean's legs and his free hand toyed with a dusky nipple. Dean shivered and grabbed the fingers, pulling them to his lips so he could suck one between his teeth.

Cas shrugged. "I'm late." His gaze fastened on Dean's mouth and his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

Dean kissed his fingers and placed his hand back on his chest. "You want to lose the uniform and shower with me," he asked with a hopeful leer. He couldn't see from this angle, but he could imagine the state Cas was in below the waist.

Cas dropped a kiss to his belly and sat up with a sigh. "I wish I could. But I better get going. I was supposed to relieve the new guy at six."

Dean glanced at the clock; six-fifteen. "You should have sucked harder," he joked.

Cas cocked one eyebrow. "I didn't hear any complaints. A couple of a '_oh God's'_ and a _'Jesusfuck'_." He tapped one finger against Dean's well-spent dick. "This? Owes me an IOU. Tonight."

"Duly noted," Dean grinned, sitting up to meet Cas' mouth. He smoothed his fingers through his hair. "You're a mess," he whispered.

"I'm in love," Cas whispered back, pecking one last kiss before he stood and slapped Dean's thigh with a loud smack. "Now get up before my baby misses her first day of daycare."

Dean winced. "Oh God. Do I have to?" He had been dreading dropping Dani off all weekend.

Cas grinned and pulled Dean from the bed. When he was standing, he wrapped his arms around him, glancing at their entwined bodies in the dresser mirror, one bare, one clad in navy, smiling at the stark contrast. He pinched Dean's butt. "She'll be fine."

"Ow," Dean complained, swatting Cas' hand away and stepping back. "Yeah, but will I?"

"You will too." Cas kissed him again and crossed the bedroom. "Call me later when you need to cry about it," he called from the hallway outside of Dani's room.

"Yeah, you big chickenshit," Dean grumbled, digging a pair of clean underwear from his top drawer. "There's a reason _I'm_ the one dropping her off and it ain't because I'm closest. It's because you're a big sap."

"I haven't left yet," Cas said drily, poking his head into the room. "And she's still asleep but stirring. I think your inability to stay silent during sex may have something to do with that."

"_My_ inability? Seriously?"

But Cas was already gone, the sound of his steps across the living room floor echoing through the small house.

"You try staying quiet when someone has their tongue—" Dean clamped his teeth together when the front door closed on the middle of his rant.

"Sexy bastard," he muttered, grinning. He shivered again and made his way to the bathroom for a hot shower. Time to go to school.

...

"She'll be okay, Mr. Winchester. You'll see," Mrs. Rowe said gently, smiling beatifically and pulling Dani from his arms.

Dean swallowed and tried to return the smile. "I'm right down the road," he began and she cut him off.

"Room 242. I remember. And I have it written here, in your records." She waved a manila file with Dani's name printed neatly on the tab.

"Okay," he said with a long exhale. He kissed the baby's cold cheek, rosy from the biting December wind. "Be good, baby girl. I'll see you after school."

"And don't forget," Mrs. Rowe said as she led him to the door. "You can peek in from time to time on the school feed. I'll email you the access code."

She patted his shoulder encouragingly. "We're going to get along just fine, Dani and I."

To Dani's credit, she didn't seem the least bit disturbed by the proceedings, smiling at her new caregiver and fluttering her long lashes sleepily. Had she been upset in the slightest, Dean didn't think he could have gone through with it.

He had his resignation letter half composed in his head anyway.

"Okay," he said again, feebly. "I'll be back."

The door closed firmly behind him and he blinked against the sharp winter air. His throat was tight and his eyes were watery.

That was probably the cold.

He drove the short distance to school and trudged down the stairs to the kindergarten rooms. The halls smelled like _school_ and it was comforting in its familiarity.

"Dean!"

He glanced up to find Lisa standing at his door, a wide smile on her pretty face. "Good morning."

"You're back," she said cheerfully opening her arms for a hug.

Dean hesitated, Cas' black expression whenever Lisa's name came up fresh in his mind. He accepted her hug but stepped quickly back, her springy perfume too fresh, too sweet. His senses craved something stronger, spicier, _male_, and a longing twitched deep in his gut.

"You look like your dog just died," she chuckled, squeezing his bicep. She took the keys from his hand and unlocked his door, pushing it open and flipping the light switch. He followed her into the room.

"I just dropped the baby off," he said, voice tinged with melancholy.

"Oh no," she winced sympathetically. "I thought maybe Ellen or Jo would be watching..." She stopped and cocked her head. "It's a girl, right?"

Dean blinked. Could she really not know? He thought back to the rush of excitement that had led up to his leave of absence, and saw nothing but Cas. He chuckled. "Yeah. She's a girl, Danielle." He pulled his phone from his front pocket and quickly pulled up a recent photo. The baby was sleeping peacefully on her tummy in the center of his bed, legs tucked under, her cheeks flushed and rosy. There was a tiny pink ribbon bow tacked jauntily into her hair, held in place with a drop of pancake syrup, her father Cas' idea.

Dean really needed to monitor his YouTube subscriptions more stringently.

"She's beautiful, Dean," Lisa said softly, and maybe with a hint of sadness.

Dean felt an instant remorse for how things had turned out between them. He had always liked Lisa. She was sweet and kind and funny, and gorgeous of course. He had considered for a time that they would probably end up together, and if he was honest, he knew she had always harbored feelings for him that ran deeper than simple friendship. He felt a sting of guilt; he had used that to his advantage when he needed to or wanted to, and yet had had no qualms about walking away when he had fallen head over heels for Cas. He thought that might make him sort of a dick.

"Thank you," he said, voice rough. "Want to see more?" He grinned, boyishly handsome and proud and Lisa laughed, nodding. Dean opened a folder for her and showed her which way to swipe to advance the photos.

She _oohed_ and _ahhed_ in appropriate places, laughing at Dani's crazy bed hair, flushing once at a photo Dean forgot he had in there, of a shirtless Cas asleep on the couch, the baby snoozing contentedly on his chest.

"So," she hesitated, turning the phone to better orient one of the photos. "Everything going okay? Adoption final?"

Dean shook his head, glancing around his very clean room. His substitute must have been a good one; the place was spotless. "Not for about five more months," he sighed. "But Cas is her legal guardian. We're just waiting on the Winchester dad to be added to her official parentage. I'm assigned the role of a temporary guardian for the time being." He frowned. "It kind of sucks."

Lisa chuckled lightly, studying a photo of Sam and the baby. "It will happen, Dean. I'm sure of it." She bit her lip when the phone vibrated in her hand.

**_Cas:_**_ How's my baby doing? _

**_Cas: _**_Dani too, of course._

"Um, text message," she handed the phone back to Dean, cheeks brightly hued. "Sorry."

Dean grinned, tilting his head. "Why are you apologizing? Was it dirty?" He chuckled when he read the message. "Geez, Lis, this is nothing. Cas can have a wicked tongue." He winked suggestively.

Lisa socked him in the arm, relaxing. "I don't know. I've never had a," she twisted mouth in consternation. "_Gay_ friend. It's like I don't know what to do with my hands." She hit him again when he laughed. "Stop laughing!"

"Ow," he chuckled, rubbing the sore spot. "Well you don't beat up on them for sure. That's cause for a picket line. Actually Cas would prefer you keep your hands to yourself. I was, uh, supposed to mention that a while ago."

"Me?!" Lisa huffed, hands on her hips. "You're nothing but a shameless flirt, Dean Winchester, has anyone told your boyfriend _that_?"

Dean shrugged with a grin. "What can I say? He thinks you're hot for my bod."

"I am _not,_" she protested fiercely, color still high in her cheeks. Her eyes narrowed. "Why? What did you tell him? You better not still be spreading that story about the Christmas party at the Roadhouse."

"Hey, you were the one carrying the mistletoe, not me," Dean pointed out cheerfully. He pushed her toward the door, suddenly buoyed by the reversal in her attitude and the allure of seeing his kindergarteners again. He had missed those little rugrats. "Let's go meet the bus line, you hussy."

"You're the one with the topless photos on your phone," she said primly, marching out the door in front of him. Miss Woods from first grade across the hall raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Of _Cas,_ Winnie," Dean hurried to explain, snorting when Winnie plugged her ears and trotted up the stairs.

He tapped out a reply to Cas as he waited for his charges to get out of cars and off of buses. _She survived. So did I. Barely._

**_Cas: _**_Does that mean you need special handling in the morning when I get home?_

Dean grinned, butterflies fluttering to life. Dammit.

**_Dean:_**_ If it's anything like this morning, hell yeah!_

**_Cas:_**_ Mmm. Now I have a nice visual to take to bed with me at naptime._

Dean chuckled. _Don't be having sex fantasies about me in the fire station. Rufus' rules, remember?_

_ **Cas:** Rufus can kiss my ass. I have it bad, Winchester. Gotta run. Call._

**_Dean: _**_BE CAREFUL._

**_Cas:_**_ Always. Love you._

Dean knew it was silly and entirely lacking in manhood, but he wanted to hold the phone to his chest, absorb the typed words into his very soul. He hastily typed an _I love you _and hit send, just as the first of his other babies ran up the walk, calling his name in excited, high-pitched voices when they spotted him waiting.

...

Gabe dragged him from his room at lunch, securing them a corner table in the cafeteria. Dean had forgotten to fix his lunch in the flurry of packing all of Dani's essentials.

"So how many times have you checked the nanny cam," Gabe asked, taking a large bite of his corndog.

"Not that many," Dean bit out. He stabbed a dinosaur shaped chicken nugget and dipped it in barbecue sauce.

"Liar." Gabe waited, chewing.

Dean sighed. "Okay, maybe ten times. Or twelve. Twelve times. But that's it."

Gabe snorted and took another bite, smearing mustard across his chin. He grimaced and dabbed at it with a cheap paper napkin. "What was she doing? She was crying, wasn't she. Miserable. Missing her daddy and feeling abandoned and—"

"_Gabe_," Dean warned gruffly. "Shut up."

Gabe kicked him gently under the table. "Chin up, Bucky. She'll be okay. Probably getting spoiled rotten as we speak."

"She's sleeping," Dean said without thinking. He grinned sheepishly and Gabe held out his hand.

"Give me the phone, Winchester."

Dean passed it over and Gabe studied the grainy activity on the small screen. He grunted. "Looks official. She's fine. Let it go, Daddy, or you'll drive yourself crazy."

"I know," Dean exhaled. "And she really _is_ fine. They've been playing with her all day. She'll be so damn spoiled, I won't be able to stand her at home."

"That's a rank lie," Gabe laughed. "I've never seen two people more in love with a smelly poo machine than you and Cas."

Dean pointed his fork at Gabe. "For a smelly poo machine, she sure has her Uncle Gabe wrapped around her little finger."

"True that," Gabe sighed. "Shit. We're hopeless, aren't we?"

Dean chuckled and ate his last nugget. "Yes. Now give me back my nanny cam."

"Nope." Gabe closed the window, ignoring Dean's protests. "You're not watching her sleep. I'm cutting you off cold turkey."

"You're an asshole."

"I love you, too, Deano." Gabe studied his friend from under his lashes. "So are you going to dish about what's up with your brother or is that off limits since we're fucking?"

"Gabe!" Dean shushed him glancing around. "Off limits," he said gruffly with a sigh. "Goddammit. I _told_ you that was a bad idea."

"No you didn't. You told me I didn't have a _chance in_ _hell_, if I remember correctly."

Dean snorted. "Yeah. So color me surprised."

"Asshole."

Dean tossed a soggy fry and it bounced off Gabe's forehead. "He's, ah, confused." He squirmed on the bench. He _did not_ sign up to be his best friend's love counselor. Or his brother's. Whatever.

"Does this have anything to do with that nurse Ruby?"

Dean's eyes widened in shock. "Ruby? How the hell do you know about Ruby?"

Gabe shrugged. "She keeps calling my house, all sultry voiced and asking for Sam. She leaves her name but he never calls her back. That I know of."

Dean tapped the fork on his plate. _Ruby._ That bitch was bad news and goddammit if Sammy was fooling around with her again, he'd tan his hide. He didn't _care_ if his little brother was two inches taller and four years younger. He'd kick his ass to Iowa and back.

Ruby had been a mistake Sam had made in the last years of medical school. Strung out on prescription meds, she had wrecked Sam's car one night, with him in it, wrapping them both around a light pole. It had been the only time Dean had ever wanted to kill someone with his bare hands.

Sam had walked away without a scratch, by some miracle.

Ruby had broken both wrists and a femur, and totaled the car. Sam had never looked back. As far as Dean knew.

"I think it's your brother, actually," he offered grudgingly, filing away the Ruby tidbit for later. "He's been giving Sam a hard time."

"Ahh, Lucifer has always busted my ass about stuff. You know how it is, big brother syndrome."

Dean shook his head. "I think he's hitting on him, Gabe."

Gabe laughed, catching Dean off guard.

When he didn't stop, Dean tossed his balled up napkin at him. "What are you laughing at?"

Gabe wiped his eyes with the rough scrap of paper. "Oh that's rich. I don't know what's worse, that Lucifer would try that, _again_, or that Sam would actually be that easily swayed." Gabe chuckled, but his tone held a note of sadness. "Fuck my life."

"What do you mean again?" Dean frowned when the teacher on duty blew her whistle, signaling the end of lunch.

"Don't worry about it, Deano," Gabe said, standing and nabbing Dean's tray to take to the trash. "I can handle one overzealous brother."

Dean paused at the stairway landing when Gabe started up to his room. "Hey," he called. "You want to come over and have dinner with me and Dani?"

Gabe grinned down at him. "You bet. Oh," He said, digging into his pocket and pulling out Dean's phone. "Don't forget your nanny cam."

Dean swiped it from his hand. "Crap. I almost forgot," he fretted as he trotted down the stairs. He had twenty more minutes before his kindergartners would be back from recess. Maybe Dani would be having her lunch and he could watch.

...

Cas swung his flashlight across the dirty floor of the warehouse. It was littered with discarded and overturned steel tables and equipment, having served as a factory before outsourcing had finally succeeded in closing its doors more than a decade ago. It was due to be demolished in the new year, razed to make way for a new parking lot and office building, but there were reports that some runaways were using the warehouse as their own personal condominium. Rufus had sent Cas and Jeff down to scope the place out, begin to plan the charges that would bring the building to the ground.

Jeff was the demolitions expert, having worked with explosives extensively during the Gulf War; Cas had more of a strategist background during his years with the forestry service. Plus, he and Jeff worked well together, which was why Rufus tried to partner them whenever possible.

"How's the new kid working out," Jeff asked, shooting his laser pointer to the ceiling and recording the measurement it fed back to him on the LCD screen.

"He's not you," Cas muttered, climbing over a pile of broken glass. "This place is a wreck. Why would kids want to stay here?"

"Aw, Cas, I'm touched. Are you trying to say you've missed me?" Jeff pointed the laser at Cas' forehead, the red dot hitting him right between the eyes and Cas flipped him off.

"No. I'm saying he always orders onions on my burger and _Diet_ Coke to drink."

Jeff chuckled. "Well get back on our regular shift, then, honeybunch." He swung his flashlight toward Cas again, traveling the light up and down his body. "And maybe he thinks you're fat."

Cas scoffed. "Maybe he's afraid I'll jump his bones if he's nice to me." He scowled, remembering the way the kid (Logan) had grimaced when he overheard Cas talking to Dean on the phone one night. Cas could deal with homophobia, he had _been_ dealing with it for most of his adult life. What he couldn't deal with was a partner who couldn't watch his back in dangerous situations.

"I think I'm offended," Jeff murmured, waving Cas to his side of the room and pointing silently at a stairwell that had obviously been recently used if the footprints around it were any indication. "I'm nice to you and you've never hit on me."

"You have a wife and three kids, douchebag," Cas replied with a wink. "And you're not my type."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Why, because I don't drive a pristine, vintage muscle car and I don't have a chiseled jaw or rock hard abs?"

"Basically," Cas said cheerfully, clapping Jeff on the shoulder and starting down the stairs. He waited until he heard Jeff on the stairwell behind him. "And feel free to ogle the car, Jeffy-boy, but the abs and jaw are off limits."

Jeff knocked Cas in the back of the head with his flashlight.

Cas rubbed the sore spot with a chuckle. "Just wanted to be clear."

"Well just so _we're_ clear, chubs," Jeff said, squeezing past Cas on the stair with a grin. "You're an idiot."

The quick scramble of feet and rustle of whispered conversations at the basement level let the two firefighters know they'd found their nest of teens.

"Sioux Falls Fire Department," Cas called, voice low and authoritative. "Come on out kids." When no one emerged from the dark, he tried again. "Look, this building has been condemned. It's coming down in about four weeks. It would be hazardous to your health to remain here."

Jeff raised his eyebrows at him in the dim light from their flashlights. He opened his mouth to speak when a small voice from the back of the room spoke up.

"I'm not going home," a girl said defiantly.

Cas sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted to do was bodily drag a bunch of kids up the stairs and scatter them to the wind on a cold December day. "No one said you had to go home, kid. You just can't stay here."

"Then where are we supposed to go, hot shot?" This was a boy, and he looked to be about fifteen, judging from his height and just-filling-in physique when he stepped into the pool of light at the base of the stairs. His face was probably handsome underneath the dirt and grime of living on the streets. "It's not like the city is laying out the red carpet for us. All I got waitin' for me out there is another year in juvi or a foster dad with a hankerin' for my ass."

Cas ground his teeth together but didn't flinch at the kid's sharp words. They were honest; he could hear it in the boy's voice. And he knew that no matter what platitudes he might spew, the simple truth was at best all he or Jeff could offer was a '_maybe'_ it would get better.

But the kid would probably go to juvenile detention as a runaway, or, as he had so crassly pointed out, back into a flawed foster system.

"I can't make any promises," he said softly. "I'm not in the business granting wishes. I'm just a spark, kid."

The boy studied the men on the stairs. Three more teens joined him, of varying heights and ages. "What's a spark," he asked and suddenly his voice sounded very young.

Cas grinned, relaxing. "A fire buff. I always did like the flames," he winked.

"Yeah? How long you been humpin' the hose," the kid asked with a flash of white teeth.

Jeff hooted, slapping Cas hard on the back. "We got ourselves an aficionado, Castiel," he grinned. "Hey kid, you got family in the trucks?"

The kid's smile faltered. "My dad. Not here though. Back home in Missouri. He died." The words were strong, forceful. In the dim light Cas could see the way the kid's chin jutted out defiantly.

"What's your name?"

The boy didn't blink. "Jake."

Cas stuck out a hand. "Castiel." He shook the kids hand, pointing an index finger at him in warning. "No mocking."

Jake grinned and held up his hands. "I didn't say nothin'."

"Yeah, you were thinking it," Cas muttered jokingly. "You can call me Cas. And this is Jeff."

The other teens waited warily and Cas sighed to himself. What the _hell_ were they going to do with four kids?

The teenagers had obviously been living in the warehouse for a while; they had erected makeshift dividers to separate the one girl from the three boys' sleeping quarters. They had found an old barbecue somewhere and had been using it for heat or cooking or both. Cas winced, glancing around the walls at the windows too high to reach; the grill was a carbon monoxide poisoning waiting to happen. The kids had probably only been saved by the huge size of the building and the stairway which must have ventilated the gas into the main floor. There it would have disbursed through the broken ground-floor windows.

Jake trailed Cas as he helped Jeff take measurements. The kid was smart; he should be in school, Cas thought gruffly. He waited until Jeff was several feet away inspecting a center beam to probe a little deeper.

"So where's your mom? She know you're living on the street?" He didn't see the point in mincing words. This kid was more adult than half the employees down at city hall.

"Ran off," Jake said, shrugging. "After my dad died, she got a job at the casino. One night she told me she was going on the road with some guy. I never saw her again."

Cas tensed. _Jesus Christ. _"So what did you do?"

"I stayed home, til the landlord kicked me out. Must have been about a month I guess. She hadn't paid rent in a while, but I didn't know that. I tried to get a job, but I was too young." He shook his head, slinging the too-long fringe from his eyes. "DHS came, put me in a home with some pervert. I took off after that."

Cas had a strong desire to put his arm around the boy, comfort him, tell him that life was fucking unfair sometimes, but there were good things too. Sometimes good things _did_ happen.

"What," Jake asked, eyes wary, and Cas realized he had been staring.

"Nothing," Cas said gruffly. "I was just thinking you remind me of someone."

"Yeah," Jake grinned. "Who?"

Cas exhaled and started up the stairs. "My daughter."

...


	19. Chapter 19

The girl's name was Tina and she was fifteen. It had all started with a small tattoo of angel wings just over the arch on her right foot. She had forged her mom's signature on the permission waiver, caught up in a rash display of bravado and daring while out shopping with friends. She had known her mother would be mad, but she never dreamed that the menopause-fueled histrionics would escalate to the point that she found herself climbing out of her second-story window at midnight and shimmying down the oak tree where her childhood rope swing still hung. She had a backpack of clothes and two hundred and six dollars, birthday and allowance money that she had been religiously hoarding for a new summer wardrobe. Her stepfather had too-conservative taste, in Tina's opinion, and she was determined that next summer was going to be different; he could hardly complain about the length of her shorts if she bought them with her own money, after all.

The money and clothes were gone by the fourth night, after she fell asleep on a park bench and woke up without her belongings. Including the water bottle she had been refilling at a public restroom.

She was alone, dirty, hungry and broke.

And all over a half-inch square of blue-black ink.

Tina missed her room.

She missed the spring-fresh smell of clean sheets and the pink ballerina lamp beside her bed. She missed pot roast on Sunday after church and family night Thursdays, when she, her mom and her stepdad would play board games until bedtime.

She missed her iPhone and the internet and chewing gum.

It was probably a miracle Jake that stumbled across her on the sixth day. She had been hiding in an alley behind Lay's Pawn, scared and crying after a tall, thin man with horn-rimmed glasses and a too-wide smile had offered her a smoke and a ride.

Jake had yanked her to the ground behind a dumpster and held her there, warning finger against his lips, until glasses guy gave up his search. Then he had pulled a stale egg and sausage biscuit from his hoodie pocket, which she devoured in two point five seconds, given it was only thing she had eaten in the past forty-eight hours save a ketchup packet.

That had been almost a month ago.

Two weeks ago she had begun scanning bulletin boards and telephone poles in search of a flyer or notice with her face on it. She had yet to see one. Maybe her mom and stepdad didn't want to find her.

When the handsome firefighter named Castiel said he was driving them to the fire station, Tina was secretly relieved. She wanted a bath and somewhere clean and safe to sleep. And food. Food would be amazing.

Castiel handed her a cell phone when she emerged from the washroom, her face scrubbed clean for the first time in days, and she wanted nothing more than to fold herself up in his arms and cry.

"My mom," she swallowed when her voice cracked, but Cas waited, patiently listening, hips against the wall, one foot propped behind him so that his knee jutted forward. "She might not come." Tina studied the phone, fingers trembling above the keypad.

"She'll come," Cas said quietly. When Tina still hesitated, he held out his hand. "Do you want me to call?"

Tina shook her head slowly. No. She took a deep breath and dialed. When she heard her mom's voice over the speaker, her face crumpled. "Mom? Can you come get me?"

Cas squeezed her shoulder, expression carefully controlled, until he heard the anxious, somewhat hysterical voice of Tina's mother as she burst into tears upon hearing her daughter on the phone. He thought, of course, of Dani and tried to imagine the heart wrenching agony of knowing your baby girl was out there alone, scared, somewhere in the city. He thought about tattoo parlors and drunks and perverts who preyed on the weak.

He turned away from the girl to give her some privacy, glancing at his watch. _Fuck, _he needed a drink.

He left Tina with the phone and wandered over to the card table where Jake was currently seated between Rufus and Jeff, a gleam in his eye and one eyebrow cocked as he studied his hand. Five minutes later he stood, grinning at Cas triumphantly, his pockets rattling, heavy with change.

Cas rolled his eyes but accepted his victory fist bump.

The two younger boys, Saul and Will, were at the kitchen table where Rufus had set them up with the small TV. The boys were thirteen and fourteen, respectively. As best as Cas could figure from their fragmented, disjointed tale, Jake had apparently taken them under his wing when he found them scavenging for scraps behind a diner several weeks ago. Cas had watched the older boy mother the two younger ones on arrival at the station, making sure they washed their hands and had first pick of the sandwiches Rufus laid out on the table.

Rufus' eyebrows had hit his hairline when Cas and Jeff showed up with the four runaways. "I told you to check out the warehouse, not pick up strays," he muttered at Cas in the kitchenette. "Why didn't you call the police?"

"Because I said I wouldn't?" Cas waved off Rufus' black look. "I called someone. Calm down."

"I'm not runnin' a halfway house, Novak. I swear. Those Winchesters have softened your brain."

Cas grinned, perplexed. "What does Dean have to do with any of this?"

"He's a bad influence," Rufus grumbled. "Packing goddamn kids home in my goddamn truck and now I have to feed them. Eatin' me out of house and home." He continued to complain under his breath as he shoved Cas aside so he could pour four too-large glasses of milk. "Go set the table," he snapped.

Cas chuckled and took the plates Rufus shoved at him.

After the food and the poker game, Jake wandered around the fire station, peering into the engines, touching the shiny paint of the lockers, picking Cas' brain over everything from the best method for preventing forest fires (he was fascinated by Cas' history as a smoke jumper) to international politics.

"Why in _hell _does a fifteen year old kid care about North Korea," Cas asked, amused and impressed.

"I think the real question here is why in hell _doesn't_ a forty-year-old man," Jake retorted.

"Don't push your luck, kid," Cas said gruffly, unable to resist reaching out to push the bangs from his eyes. "I'm only thirty-four."

"There's a difference?"

"Smartass," Cas muttered, but he had to bite his lip to hold back a smile. Kid was charming. A smart aleck, sure, but he had charisma in spades.

Cas thought it odd when Jake asked to see his sleeping quarters, but he led him upstairs and watched in silence as the boy perused the room and thumbed through Cas' belongings, casually picking up the small, framed photo of Dani and Dean by his cot. Jake studied the photo for a long time and then looked at Cas, expression unreadable.

Cas waited, but the question never came.

Jake set the frame back in its place at the head of Cas' bed, eventually crossing to the big window where he stared down at the park across the road for a long time.

Cas couldn't imagine what the kid was thinking, his too long hair still damp where he had stuck his whole head in the sink, scrubbing it with bar soap, probably his first encounter with hot water in days. Cas left him sitting on the windowsill when he saw a familiar car pull up on the street below.

Missouri shaded her eyes as she studied the façade of the fire station, the fieldstone sparkling in the mid-afternoon sun. She pursed her lips when Cas appeared out of the shadows.

"You certainly have a knack, Mr. Novak."

"Missouri." Cas ignored her hand in favor of wrapping his arms around her and squeezing hard.

She exhaled exasperatedly but thumped him on the back twice before pushing him aside. "Get off me and show me the children." She marched into the fire station ahead of him. "And for the love of God, please tell me the rest of your family unit is otherwise occupied. I have a headache and the last thing I need today is to try and decipher the inner workings of the Winchester dynamic."

Cas laughed as he followed her into the shade of the fire engine bay. "No Winchesters today, I swear. It's just me and the fire crew. And the kids."

Missouri studied the three faces at the table, an empty, crumb-filled plate in front of them. "Well. At least you've been fed." She side-eyed Rufus. "Mr. Turner."

Cas raised his eyebrows but Rufus ignored him.

"Ms. Moseley."

"I thought you said there were four."

"That would be me." Jake appeared in the doorway, tone a shade defiant. "I guess I jacked around and missed my opportunity to escape, huh."

Missouri watched him, dark chocolate eyes reading his story in the jut of his chin and the accusatory glare he threw at Cas. "Not missed, young man. Evaded maybe."

Jake stiffened.

"Have you eaten?" She glanced back at the table, noting the way the girl still clung to a phone.

"Yeah," he bit out.

A commotion out front drew all of their attention and within seconds Tina's mother burst forth between two fire trucks, a harried, middle-aged man on her heels. "Tina!"

Cas smiled when Tina jumped from the table and ran to her parents, enveloped in arms that clung, mother sobbing, stepdad holding a hand over his eyes.

He didn't miss the way Jake's mouth tightened.

"Well, I guess you handled that one for me," Missouri muttered, walking to the table and snatching up the cell phone Tina had discarded. She handed it to Cas. "Anything else you need to tell me before I try and straighten out this mess?"

Cas glanced at Jake but the boy wouldn't meet his eyes. He shook his head. "Nope. You're the boss."

"It would behoove you to remember that," she said, giving first Cas and then Rufus a hard look. "Come on then, come tell me your story." She plopped down at the table across from Saul and Will who had watched the proceedings with wide, quiet gazes. She looked at Jake when he didn't move. "Cat got your tongue? Get over here, boy, and have a cookie." She held out the empty plate in the direction of the kitchen.

Rufus rolled his eyes. "I suppose that's my cue." He grabbed the plate and stomped off.

Jake slunk into the chair farthest from where the social worker sat, handsome face sulky and young.

"Go take care of the girl and her folks, Mr. Novak. I'll need to see them before they leave."

Cas would have liked to hear Jake's story again, maybe glean more detail, but he hovered instead at the edge of the little family reunion as instructed, a warm feeling spreading across his gut as he watched Tina's expression change from one of fear and despair to relief and tentative happiness. By the time he returned to the table, Missouri and the boys were standing, preparing to leave.

The younger boys were bundled into the backseat of Missouri's car, Jake stubbornly standing at the passenger door, still refusing to meet Cas' gaze.

"Missouri's one of the good guys, Jake," Cas tried again.

Jake scoffed.

"Look." Cas sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "I'll come down and check on you, okay? As soon as they let you have visitors."

"Oh wow, Cas, let me fall to my knees and offer my undying gratitude. You've been a real peach." Jake slung his hair aside. "Prick," he muttered.

Cas didn't know whether to squeeze the kid or slug him. He kind of wanted to do both. Before he had a chance to do either, Jake opened the passenger door and got in, slamming it in his face.

Missouri cornered him when he met her at the edge of her bumper. "You probably need to stop that."

"Stop what," Cas lifted his chin defensively.

Missouri narrowed her eyes. "You know what, Mr. Novak. A troubled teenage boy is a hell of a different story than a six month old baby."

Cas sighed, looking up at the clouds gathering on the horizon. It was supposed to rain later. "He's Dani, Missouri. Tell me he's not and I'll walk away."

"He's not, Castiel," she said softly. "He's not because you saved her. But you can't save everyone. God knows I've tried."

"Just," Cas flinched when he met her too-kind gaze. "I want to know he's okay. Check on him. Is there a mentor program or something?"

"For a fifteen year old?" She shook her head. "Not too many options at that age. But that doesn't mean you can't be the first. Does he know you're gay?"

"Missouri," Cas protested, glancing at the car. "Geez, why don't you just borrow Rufus' loud speaker."

She cocked an eyebrow, unamused. "I didn't realize it was such a damn secret. You _do_ live with another man, don't you?" She looked pointedly at his left hand. "Albeit one who can't seem to find the wherewithal to put a ring on it."

"It's not a secret, and I don't need a ring." Cas flushed, cursing his hot cheeks. "And no. I didn't tell him. Shockingly, my sexual orientation didn't come up while he was fleecing me of all my pocket change at five card stud."

"He's not had it easy with men, I would imagine." Missouri as usual didn't mince words. "You should tell him before you decide to be his best pal. He doesn't deserve to be shocked by it later."

"It shouldn't be shocking," Cas said irritably. "It shouldn't be an issue at all."

"I'm not talking about society at large, Castiel." She shook her head with something that looked suspiciously liked disappointment. "You might have gone through the line twice when they were passing out the handsome in heaven, but you would have done better to go through the smarts line a time or two."

"Gee, thanks," Cas said drily.

"All I'm sayin' is that he's damaged. And things that are simple and easy to you, like sex—"

"Missouri." He palmed his eyes.

"Aren't quite so simple to a kid like Jake."

Cas bit his lip, absorbing her words. He glanced at her from under his lashes. "Sex with Dean is never simple."

Missouri placed a fist on her hip. "Did you seriously just make a sex joke to your social worker?"

"Yes ma'am." His eyes twinkled and he tensed, ready to dodge any sudden swings. She didn't disappoint, flinging a dark, open palm against his bicep, and he grunted.

"Watch your mouth." Bur her lips were twitching in amusement.

"Okay," Cas sighed, resisting the urge to rub his arm. "Where can I see him?"

"He'll be at the boys detention center. I'll send you the visiting hours." She surprised him but grabbing his chin and pulling his face down to hers, kissing him soundly on the cheek. "You're a good man, Castiel Novak."

Cas grinned. "You old softie."

Missouri pointed her finger at him with a fierce expression. "I'm making a surprise visit to see that baby of yours next week. I expect pie."

"I'll see what I can do." Cas walked around the front of the car with her, holding open her door. He bent over to peer at Jake, who stared stonily out of the front windshield. "Jake, I'll be down as soon as they let you have visitors."

"Whatever." The kid refused to look at him.

"You too," Cas said to the teens in the back seat. "You take care."

...

Sam stripped off his gloves and dropped them into the biohazard container. His surgery gown came off next, and he tossed it into the wash bin.

He ignored the too-close surgeon to his left, pushing into his personal bubble and reaching low across his hips to throw out his own gloves.

"You hungry," Lucifer murmured, not meeting his eyes as he peeled away his surgery booties. "I'm starved. I could use a steak and a baked potato."

"No. Yes." Sam exhaled. "Yeah. I'm hungry."

Lucifer grinned. "Let's eat then."

Sam hesitated.

"My brother got you on that short a leash, Dr. Winchester?"

"Oh, shut up," Sam muttered, pushing through the vacuum-sealed doors. He had been dazzled by Lucifer's skill on the table, his nimble fingers hypnotic as they repaired a valve with careful precision. Of course he also had a habit of ruining the bliss of admiration whenever he opened his mouth.

"So my place?" Lucifer caught up to him in the hall, matching Sam's long-legged stride.

Sam stopped the grin before it fully emerged. "I thought you said steak."

"I can cook," Lucifer winked.

"Restaurant. With a bar," Sam grunted. He needed a fucking drink.

...

They skipped the bar, being it was after nine p.m., and Sam was surprised when they were seated immediately. Apparently Lucifer had already made a name for himself; the hostess batted her eyes and ignored her reservation list entirely.

Sam tried not to fidget while the other man blatantly stared at him over the top of his menu while he sipped at a Scotch.

He wished he'd asked for something stronger than a beer.

"You're planning to continue in cardiac, right?"

"What?" Sam blinked.

"You're good," Lucifer shrugged, swirling amber liquid around the square cubes of ice in his glass. "You have the touch."

"No," Sam shook his head. "GI."

"Guts? Really? But the heart," Lucifer's tongue darted out to wet his lips. "The heart is such a magnificent organ."

Sam tipped his beer, swallowing the remainder of the bottle in one go. "I'm sure the fact that cardiac is also the most lucrative has nothing to do with your opinion."

"Don't be crass," Lucifer admonished silkily. "To hold one's heart in your hand, to feel the beat, sluggish at first and then stronger, surer. To hold life itself." He shrugged. "It's the ultimate rush."

Sam was glad the server appeared to take their order. Lucifer had a way of making him feel too exposed, like he could peel away Sam's normally confident exterior shell and see right into his innermost thoughts and fears. He gave his order to the girl and had just passed his folded menu to the server, when a toss of a brown head at the bar caught his eye.

Gabe.

Gabe chuckling, lifting a wine glass to his lips, grinning that softly amused smile Sam thought was reserved for him. Sam didn't recognize the man it was aimed at, and the way he leaned in close to whisper against Gabe's ear pricked something deep and fiery in his gut.

Of course that was the exact moment Gabe's eyes met his from across the room, brow lifting in surprise. Sam watched as he spoke to the man and they both stood, navigating their way through the maze of diners to Lucifer and Sam's table.

Sam wanted to kick Lucifer when he winked, licking his lips seductively.

"Hey," Gabe said cheerfully. "How are my favorite doctors?"

"I thought you were having dinner with Dean and Dani." Sam flushed, realizing belatedly how abrupt his words sounded.

Gabe glanced at him sideways. "I did." He reached over and laid a hand on his companion's shoulder and Sam caught himself before he winced, but only barely. "Sam, Lucifer, this is Matthew McGooden. Matt, Lucifer, my brother. And Sam," his eyes met Sam's again, unreadable. "An old friend."

Sam shook Matt's hand. _Old friend my ass, you dick,_ he thought, glaring at Gabe_._

Gabe chewed the inside of his cheek as he studied Sam. He turned abruptly, slapping Lucifer on the back. "You here for the steak, big brother? That must mean you've saved another poor, neglectful soul. Congratulations." He nodded to Matt. "My brother is a heart surgeon."

Sam waited, but Gabe never gave any indication that Sam, too, being a doctor was of the least importance. _Fucker._

"You know me well," Lucifer murmured. He was watching Sam, though, his grin wide, and as far as Sam was concerned, entirely too smug. "Join us?"

"Nah," Gabe looked at Matt who shrugged as if to say _whatever you think._ "We were just leaving. I have an early day tomorrow."

"The night is young." Lucifer's posture was relaxed, confident, as if he had all the time in the world.

And, Sam supposed, he probably did.

"Thanks, but we'll let you get back to your dinner."

Sam noticed how Gabe seemed to pause just before the word _dinner._

"It was nice meeting you both," Matt offered with a small wave. His teeth were too straight and too white, Sam thought, then immediately felt small and petty.

"Call you later," he said to Gabe, who responded with only the barest hint of a nod before leaving.

"Trouble in paradise," Lucifer crooned softly, grinning up at the server as she placed a platter of red meat in front of him.

"Shut up," Sam muttered, disgusted. Disgusted with himself, with Lucifer, with fucking Gabe. What the _hell_ were they all playing at, anyway?

And why did he suddenly get the feeling this was one patch job he might be ill-equipped to perform?

"The heart, Sam. My favorite organ." Lucifer started to laugh and Sam felt sick, post-surgery high long gone, hunger vanished, and he wished like hell he was already home.

Two hours later, while he waited fruitlessly for sleep to claim him, Sam stared at the display on his phone, his unanswered text message mocking him beside Gabe's name.

...

Cas stripped down to his boxers and slipped under the sheets. Dean's deep, even breaths were comforting and he carefully smoothed a hand down his warm back. His shoulder twitched under his hand and Cas smiled; if he had a heart, he would let him sleep.

He watched Dean's eyes move behind his eyelids as he dreamed. His thoughts drifted to Jake, and he wondered how the kid had made it overnight in the detention center, if the horror stories were all true, if he had had to establish himself in an archaic pecking order on arrival.

His fingers must have tightened on Dean's back because he stirred, blinking sleepily.

"Hey," he mumbled, rubbing his face into his pillow.

Cas smiled sheepishly, kissing his temple. "Sorry," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

"No, s'all right." Dean rolled over, pulling Cas closer so he could nudge his legs apart, entwine their limbs until he was wrapped around him. He shivered. "Cold."

Cas chuckled, mouth rubbing over the knob of a shoulder. "You feel pretty warm to me." He pushed his knee higher between Dean's thighs.

"Perv," Dean mumbled, wiggling his hips. "Why are you wearing so many clothes."

Cas kissed his collarbone, then his neck, using the hand he had tucked behind the back of Dean's head to pull his jaw aside. "I'm only wearing boxers."

"Exactly."

"Wiseass," Cas snorted softly. He licked a spot low on his throat, priming it for suction, enjoying the way Dean's body tensed in anticipation. When he sucked the skin between his teeth, Dean inhaled sharply, fingers digging sharply into Cas' hips.

Dean exhaled on a low groan as he felt the skin bruising, blood rushing to the surface to meet Cas' lips and teeth. "_Fuck._"

Cas released him, kissing the mark gently. "Why do I love this? We're entirely too old for it."

"Nuh uh," Dean grunted. "Although I hope to hell I can hide that."

"Is that the trick?" Cas kissed his lips softly. "I can mark you up as long as you can hide it?"

"Mmmm, _God_ yes." Dean's tongue darted out to touch the tip of Cas' and he grinned. "I'm not going to be able to hide that one though, am I?"

Cas wrinkled his nose as he studied his handiwork, eyes glinting dark and sexy in the light from the alarm clock. "Probably not."

Dean kissed him lingeringly, then relaxed against the pillow. "What's the matter?"

Cas huffed a laugh. "What makes you think anything's the matter?"

"Because you've been in bed at least ten minutes and no one is naked or panting."

"You were panting," Cas pointed out, eyebrow arching.

"Was not."

Cas rubbed his knee against Dean's arousal. "Were too."

"That's cheating," Dean panted. He thrust his tongue in Cas' mouth but stilled his rolling movements, gripping the other man's hips hard. When he broke away he noted with satisfaction that Cas was breathing a little too fast too. "Fire?"

"No, quiet night." Cas cuddled closer, kissing Dean's ear. "You're too good to me."

"This is true."

Cas chuckled. "Your modesty is admirable."

"And your evasion technique is sorely lacking." The damp, warm puffs of air Cas blew against the sensitive skin of his neck were making Dean shudder, small quakes that raised gooseflesh on his arms.

"Then let me try harder," Cas whispered, tonguing the skin below his earlobe.

"Mmm, improving," Dean sighed, pressing his ear closer to Cas' lips.

"I met someone," Cas said softly and Dean froze. "Oh God, babe, not like that."

"Sonofabitch," Dean exhaled, shoving Cas back so he could look in his eyes. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

Cas laughed softly and pulled him close again. "Sorry." He kissed him and he felt instant remorse for the way Dean's heart fluttered fast against his chest. "Sorry," he whispered again.

"Never. Never letting you out of the house again," Dean insisted between kisses, pushing Cas to his back.

"Dean—"

Dean cut him off, mouth hard and wet and desperate when he loomed over him and took control, soft morning kisses and sweet, gentle words forgotten, replaced with an intense longing and a sudden need to possess.

Cas wouldn't have resisted, even if he could. He wanted to tell Dean about Jake, needed Dean's opinion and approval before he could even begin to understand what he wanted to do about the boy. His thoughts felt only half-formed without Dean's input.

But Dean's hands were too hot and his lips and tongue were too demanding, too good, and all coherent thought disappeared behind a rush of heat and sex and love. Cas had a brief moment to wonder when that had happened, when he had become less than whole without Dean, when he had starting needing him before he needed anything else. Everything else.

Later, when he could string more than two words together, he chuckled and threaded fingers through Dean's sweaty hair. "So much for letting you sleep in."

"Sleep's overrated," Dean mumbled against his chest. He sighed. "I think I should play hooky today. I feel like I might be coming down with something."

"I could get on board with that," Cas murmured, pulling Dean's left hand to his mouth, kissing the crease where the silver ring lay snug against his finger.

Dean ached somewhere behind the vicinity of his heart as he watched him. He leaned up and kissed his lips. "Want to jump in the shower? I hear it's very important to conserve water."

"Thanks, Sam."

Dean groaned. "Oh God, not while I'm still naked."

Cas wiggled his hips. "Like I could forget."

"Stop that." Dean kissed him again and sat up, grimacing when the cool air hit his sweaty skin. He stared morosely down at Cas, sex-flushed and warm and wrapped in a cocoon of sheets. "I hate winter."

Cas snuggled under the blankets, shoving Dean off the bed. "Go get in the shower. And turn the heat up."

"Ass," Dean said affectionately, but he padded across the room to grab clean clothes. "I'll bring the baby in to say bye before we leave, so don't go too far into dreamland."

Cas sat up when he left the room. "Dean."

Dean poked his head back through the open door. "Yes," he asked solemnly.

"Leave her. I'll take her by the daycare later, when I need to sleep."

Dean frowned. "You sure? You've been up all night."

"I'm sure. I need to play with my girl before she forgets who's her favorite."

Dean smiled, forcing himself to back out of the room before dark, messy hair and bright blue eyes persuaded him it wouldn't hurt to miss _one_ more day. "I'm jealous."

"I'll play with you tonight," Cas offered cheekily, flopping back on the bed.

Dean grinned as he crossed the hall. He would definitely be holding him to that.

….


	20. Chapter 20

Jo laughed at Dean's expression as he tucked the small, dark blue velvet box into the diaper bag. "You gonna be all right? I'll bet they keep paper bags behind the counter for men in your situation."

"I'm fine," Dean gasped, releasing the breath he'd been holding while he paid for the narrow titanium band. For the love of _Christ._ It wasn't like he and Cas weren't solidly together. Happy. Committed. And Dean himself couldn't remember what his left hand felt like without his own ring.

He had just spent a half a month's salary on a wedding ring for his gay boyfriend. Holy crap.

The room swam again and he heard Jo snort before she patted his back in sympathy. Dean's most treasured commitment chose that moment to let out an enraged cry, before sucking ravenously on her fist.

Jo grinned, peering down at her in amusement. "Where did _that_ come from?"

Dean took the baby from her and nodded to the bag. "Better get this girl some chow, Jo, before she brings down the rafters."

"She wouldn't do that," Jo crooned, kissing the baby's head. "She's an angel."

"She would and she has," Dean grinned. Dani had a set of lungs on her, if she was really mad. She didn't get that way often—what with being completely and totally doted on every waking moment—but when she did, watch out. She was feisty and temperamental, with snapping dark eyes that brooked no arguments from the adults at her beck and call.

Dean found it simplest to go along with whatever she wanted, namely because he couldn't resist her. But also because he secretly thought pissed Dani was the cutest fucking thing he'd ever seen.

Cas won all the awards for spoiling though; he had taken to falling asleep with the baby between them in bed, cuddling her close while he drifted off, watching her play with her toes and blow bubbles with her tiny pink tongue. More than once Dean had left to fetch something from the kitchen or the living room, Cas talking to the baby in low, dulcet tones, only to return to find them both sound asleep, one of Cas' fingers caught inside a small fist.

Then _he_ was left feeling like a heartless bastard when he had to transfer the sleeping baby to her crib. He could never seem to gather any real sense of irritation though, considering the handsome asshole in his bed was warm and sweet, often exhausted from a demanding job, and already missing far too many prime play hours with their baby girl.

Cas had never once asked for anything in return, and a moment of clarity had smacked Dean in the face while he was standing in line with Sam at _Sugar and Cream_, waiting for a coffee and pastry. A fire truck had roared past the bakery, sirens blaring, and Dean had had a swift, fierce longing for _Cas_. Not just his body or his smile or his hands, not the way his hips felt when they moved beneath him or the way his nose nudged Dean's ear when he kissed him good morning after a long shift. It was all of those things and none of those things.

Dean suddenly had no earthly idea why he had waited so long to show the world that Cas was _his_. Maybe he hadn't been brave enough, confident enough, to believe in forever before, but he believed in it now.

Nobody worked a twenty-four hour shift and still generously did his share of two a.m. feedings unless he was committed.

Even _with_ all the sex.

And the sex was pretty amazing.

Dani began to cry in earnest, noting that her daddy wasn't paying attention to the enormity of her _situation_, and he laughed and kissed her cheek, bouncing her on his arm to placate her. He smiled when her mouth opened wide like a little bird, her face falling, lips pursing into a gorgeous pout when Dean didn't produce a bottle fast enough. "Any minute now, Jo."

"Coming, coming," Jo said, shaking the bottle to mix the formula. "Here you go, ladybug." Jo expertly tucked a plain cloth diaper under the baby's chin and positioned the bottle at her lips.

Dani latched onto the nipple with a ferociousness that made them both laugh.

"She's a little piggy." Jo took over pushing the stroller, elbowing Dean out of her way.

"She takes after her Aunt Jo," he joked.

"Shut up, dickhead, and buy me a frozen yogurt."

"See, Dani? Aunty Jo has a temper when she's hungry too. Some people call her a bi—"

"Dean Winchester," Jo warned. "I _will_ kick your ass."

Dean winked and dutifully followed Jo into the ice cream parlor next door. But just for the threat, he was going to make her pay for his cone.

…

The juvenile detention center was a sad sort of place, the kind of building that made Dean think of old hospitals and nursing homes. It smelled of bleach and cigarette smoke and boiled cabbage.

The boy sitting across from him was not what Dean expected.

He was older than he had anticipated, for one, although Cas had told him Jake was fifteen. Dean had pictured skinny, gangly, uncoordinated _Sam_, with too long hair and a too-wide smile. This boy was on the verge of manhood, his jaw already squaring and serious eyes that rivaled Cas' in color saturation.

The too-long hair was accurate at least, but Dean was fairly sure this kid's face hadn't erupted in a real smile in months. And it was _that_ that won him over.

Not that the kid seemed to give two fucks what Dean thought. Cocky little shit.

"So you two are what, gay-married?" Jake's eyes bounced from Dean's ring finger to the baby on his lap.

"Yes," Dean said at the same time that Cas said, "Not exactly."

Dean looked at Cas in consternation.

Cas chuckled and resisted the urge to kiss the look of irritation off of his handsome face. He was trying to convince _both _of these stubborn asshats that they would be good for each other, not alienate one entirely with oversentimentality.

"You two should have coordinated your stories," Jake cracked, the wry expression in his bright blue eyes so reminiscent of Cas that it took Dean's breath away.

Dean inhaled on a retort but Cas cut him off.

"What happened there?" He nodded at Jake's left eye, swollen and purple above his brow.

"Just a little friendly altercation." The boy's words were dismissive, boastful even, but Cas saw something flicker across his face before Jake turned back to Dean.

"Okay, let me have her." He propped his elbows on the table and pointed his hands in Dani's direction.

"What? No!" Dean's mouth tightened into a thin line as he held the baby tighter.

"Why not?"

"Why do you want her?"

"So I can feed her my stash of booze and pills, asshole. Why do you think?"

Cas opened his mouth to intercede when Dean jabbed a finger at the boy. "You drop her and we're going to have words, son."

Cas noted the slight flinch the last word caused, and laid a hand on Dean's leg under the table.

Jake took the smiling baby over the top of the table, fitting her expertly against his shoulder. Dani studied this new face up close, startling when Jake slung his head to the side to shift his bangs out of his field of vision.

She grinned and batted him in his right eye.

"Easy, Cassius Clay, I only got one good one left."

Dean grunted and relaxed on the metal folding chair when it didn't appear as though he was going to need to perform a daring baby rescue any time soon. He casually dropped one hand to cover Cas' and squeezed.

"You're pretty good at that," Cas noted.

"So." Jake said defensively.

"Nothing to get riled up about," Cas soothed. "Just making an observation, Jake."

"Yeah, well, I like babies."

Dean snorted.

"You got something to say, grease monkey?"

Dean huffed a laugh. "Look kid, shocking as it may be, and believe me, I'm more and more shocked by the second, I'm on _your side._" He cocked his head. "And what did you call me?"

Cas started to laugh, softly at first and then louder until he had to wipe the wetness from his eyes.

"You're not high, are you?" Jake asked skeptically. "They'll lock you down so tight you'll never get back in for another visit."

Cas calmed himself because he heard real worry in the kid's voice. "No, Jake. I'm not _high_. I'm just amazed by your perceptiveness. And yours," he said grinning at Dean. "You're both so fucking predictable."

"No I'm not," Dean protested.

"Yeah. Me neither," Jake stated with assurance. He and Dean exchanged a look. _What the fuck?_

"Yeah, you really are."

Jake shifted the baby to his other shoulder.

"Where'd you learn to take care of babies, Jake?" Cas asked softly.

Dani chose that moment to practice her bubble blowing technique and the teenager grinned into her pretty face.

"Two foster homes ago, they had a baby. About this size," Jake murmured, smiling when Dani rubbed her eyes with her fist, sleepy. "You got a bottle in that murse there, Deano?"

Dean released Cas' hand so he could bend over to retrieve the bag. "Why am I the one getting the brunt of the abuse here? And it's a diaper bag, Dr. Spock." He handed over a full bottle.

Jake tipped the baby back on his arm and stuck the bottle in her mouth. Dani responded by sucking hard and fast for a few seconds and then pausing to grin at the boy, a milky dribble running down her chin. "You're a mess," he muttered, propping the bottle under his chin so he could snap his fingers at Dean for something to dry her off with.

Dean passed a cloth diaper to him, expression droll.

Cas watched them, unbelievably touched by the tender way Jake took care of the baby, and tickled at the way he took no shit from Dean. He was going to fit right in.

"So do you kiss and stuff? How explicit are we talking?"

Dean coughed into his fist, eyes wide. "Um. Say what now?"

"You two. I could see you holding hands under the table." Jake rolled his eyes, propping an ankle on his knee so he could rest Dani more comfortably in his arms. "I think I deserve to know what I'm getting myself into here in regards to PDA."

"I, uh," Dean fumbled, perplexed. _Sonofoabitch. _

"Yes." Cas rescued him. "We have lots of _PDA._ That gonna be a problem for you, Jake? Dean and I aren't married on paper, but only because that's a formality this great state we live in doesn't yet recognize. But in every other way, we're together."

"So kiss him."

"What!" Dean exclaimed at the same time that Cas reprimanded, "Jake."

"Not porno tongue kissing, _God._" Jake huffed, setting the bottle on the table and shifting the dozing baby to his shoulder so he could pat her back. "But a little kiss, sure. I'd like to know whether the sight of you two jackasses necking is going to be a dealbreaker for me."

"Are you high?" Dean used Jake's own words against him. "There are _people_ here," he hissed. He glanced around at the half-full commons room where other families were visiting at nearby tables.

"I'm not making a spectacle, Jake. I don't know what you're playing at." Cas leaned back in his chair, studying the boy.

"I'm not playing at anything," Jake said evenly. "But I'm not interested in people who aren't completely honest. And frankly, I'm not convinced you two are legit. Hell, half the room saw the way he ogled that hooker's ass." He tipped his head in Dean's direction.

"She had a nice ass!" Dean reached for Cas' hand again, needing the contact and the strength. "Not as good as Cas' though. Please."

Cas chuckled. "Nice save, babe."

"I speak nothing but the truth." Dean threw Jake a pointed glare. "And that hooker was someone's mother, douchebag."

Cas leaned into him before Dean realized his intentions and kissed him, sufficiently long and deep that Jake finally cleared his throat.

"Okay. That's good enough for me."

Dean was grinning when Cas pulled away. "Told you he was hot for me."

"You never said that," Cas said in amusement.

"I was thinking it."

"Oh my _God,_ do you need to get a room? You can have mine. I'll go home with Dani."

Cas cocked his head, holding his breath while he waited for Jake's final decision. "So?"

Jake contemplated the men, rubbing concentric circles on the sleeping baby's back. "Well, I'm not going to be puking rainbows anytime soon. But the two of you aren't entirely repulsive at least."

Dean laughed at the boy, a warm spurt of true affection suffusing him. "Ok, hotshot. You've had your fun. Now pass me back my baby."

…

Missouri's tongue-lashing and end of days doom and gloom speech about raising troubled teens was not one Dean wanted to repeat, ever, but despite her dire warnings (and a smack on the back of Dean's head when he '_sassed'_ her), Jake moved in on the following Saturday. For better or for worse, Dean and Cas found themselves foster parents to a fifteen-year-old boy.

Jake had to sleep on the pullout couch, and Missouri warned that they would need to consider a larger dwelling if they were going to keep _picking up strays,_ as she had so eloquently put it. She also cautioned that the social worker Jake would ultimately be assigned probably wouldn't be as understanding as Missouri herself, and the men could be docked for not providing sufficiently for their charges.

So now Dean was house shopping in addition to learning to adjust to short bursts of sleep between the hours of ten and two and three and six, and negotiating daycare and laundry and dinner. And Algebra. God save Dean from Algebra.

It was hell, but it was hell wrapped in the most incredible cotton-candy coating of love that Dean was practically euphoric.

Unless that was the lack of sleep.

Or the lack of sex.

He and Cas had had to find creative ways to feed their need for each other, because, as it turned out, a fifteen-year-old boy living on the streets consequently developed erratic sleeping patterns.

_Hallway outside the bedroom, 2:32 a.m._

The baby fed and diapered and returned to her crib, Dean and Cas fumbled with their mutual drawstrings, hands and lips tangled, chest to chest—

"I'm trying to read here," Jake commented nonchalantly from the couch, penlight aimed at a ragged paperback.

Dean panted softly, disentangling his fingers from Cas' dark hair. "_Fuck._"

"I'd rather you didn't, actually. Horny bastards," Jake muttered, noisily flipping a page.

Cas snorted and shoved Dean through their bedroom door. He peeked into the living room. "Put the book down and go to sleep, Jake. School night."

Jake sighed dramatically, flicking off his light and plunging the room into darkness. "Fine. But it'll take me at least forty minutes to be sound asleep. Plan accordingly."

Cas grinned and followed Dean into the bedroom.

_Kitchen, in front of the fridge, 1:07 a.m._

Dean pushed Cas against the fridge, grinding his hips against him. "I missed you last night," he whispered into his mouth.

"Mmm," Cas moaned lightly. "You feel good." He tucked his hands in the back of Dean's pajama pants. _God_ he had missed Dean this week. They were at opposite ends, schedule-wise, and had been playing tag for days.

Dean kissed him softly, swallowing the sounds coming from his throat; Jake had gone to bed early, worn out from his first cross-country practice. Which, he still needed to brag to Cas about. Later. Much, much later, if the deliberate way Cas was moving against him was any indication.

"For the love of Christ. _You have your own room for a reason._"

Dean and Cas jumped apart.

"What are you doing up," Dean squeaked. Goddammit, he hoped it was dark enough the state of affairs beneath his pajama pants was well-hidden.

"I'm hungry," Jake said calmly, scratching his bare chest and shoving Dean aside so he could open the fridge. He pulled out a carton of eggs.

"For eggs?" Dean couldn't help the slight whine in his tone. Especially since Cas' fingers were absently rubbing the back of his waistband.

"Yup. _Night,_" Jake said pointedly, gesturing toward the door with the carton.

"I'm hungry too," Cas said, and for once he wasn't making an innuendo.

"Fuck my life," Jake muttered, turning to the stove.

"Language," Dean admonished, pulling the carton from the boy's hands with a grin. So far, they hadn't been sweating the small stuff like cursing or excessive sarcasm, since Jake was still settling in and, to be honest, he cracked Dean the hell up. It was hard to be parental when you were snorting in laughter.

And that was how they ended up eating a full breakfast with eggs, sausages and eventually pancakes at two in the morning. Either the smell of the food or the noise from the kitchen woke Dani too, and Jake retrieved the baby from her crib while Cas and Dean shared duty at the stove. He fed her from his lap, bites of pancake and egg, and Dean's heart nearly exploded with affection and warmth as he watched them.

There was no sex that night either, but it was still one of the best nights of Dean's life. Even _with_ the six a.m. alarm greeting a full day of work the next morning. Jake, the little shit, was completely unaffected and entirely too chipper.

"Youth is wasted on the young," Dean groused as he leaned over the bed to kiss Cas goodbye. "He's pissing me off."

"Because he's in a good mood?" Cas asked, chuckling as he stroked Dean's cheek and pulled his mouth down to meet his.

"Yes," Dean mumbled around Cas' lips. "I look like I've been on a two-day drunk and he looks as fresh as a daisy. What the fuck, man?"

Cas halted the tirade with a few well-timed flicks of his tongue, wishing like hell it was Saturday and Dean could climb back into bed with him, even if just to sleep. "Love you, old man," he murmured.

Dean laughed softly. "Shut up."

"Date tomorrow night? Dinner, maybe the drive in? We could park in the last row, neck in the back seat."

"Who's gonna watch Dani," Dean asked, giving in when Cas pulled him onto the mattress, wrinkly clothes be damned.

"Jo? Bobby? Bobby could watch Dani and Jake both. Be good for him."

"Jake's going to kick your ass for implying he needs a babysitter," Dean whispered, ducking his head to kiss the taut column of Cas' throat, day-old stubble scraping his lips. He groaned when Cas palmed his butt. "I gotta go, babe. You're killing me."

Cas stole one more long kiss before pushing him off the bed. "Get out of here, so I can go have some private alone time in the shower."

"Holy fuck," Dean breathed, squeezing his eyes shut and counting to five. "Could you not give me that kind of visual right before I go to work?" He glared down at Cas, who was wearing a sexy grin and a sheet and not much else.

"See you after school, Dean." And goddamn him, but he used the sex voice. Dean retaliated by slipping his tongue between those full lips and his left hand beneath the covers. When he left, Cas was flushed and squirming and cursing under his breath.

…

"So, I bought this ring." Dean fidgeted on the couch, glancing at Jake from the corner of his eye.

"Congratulations."

Dean huffed. "I'm not finished."

"Well, by all means, talk over the last five minutes of _C.O.P.S. _because I positively don't need to know whether the meth-head piano-thief calls his mom and cries again or gets thrown in the tank to dry out."

Dean hit the power button on the remote and the TV flicked off. "He cries."

"Wow. You're supposed to tag your spoilers."

"I don't understand that reference," Dean muttered. "_Anyway._ I bought Cas a ring. I was thinking of giving it to him tonight. What do you think? Too soon? Too '_oh, we just had a fifteen year old, let's get married_'? Should I wait another week? Let the newness of _you_ wear off?"

"Dude. Have you been in a single adult relationship even once in your life?"

"What? Yes! No. Shut up." Dean scowled for good measure but Jake just rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Look." He put his feet up on the coffee table. "I don't know if you've noticed, but that guy is nuts about you. It's pretty gross."

Dean snorted. "Gee, thanks. And no shoes on the coffee table." He started to ask another question but Jake held up his hand to stop him.

"I'm not Dr. Phil, Winchester. Don't you have a therapist for that?"

"I'm not in therapy," Dean protested. "Why would you think I was in therapy? Do you think I _need_ therapy?"

"Dude. _Everyone_ needs therapy," Jake said matter-of-factly.

"Hmph," Dean exhaled. "Well, I don't." He watched the boy as he flipped to the last page of Cas' paperback and read it. He deftly changed the subject. "How's school? Do you feel settled in?"

It was such a motherly thing to ask that Dean had the grace to flush when Jake gave him a look that was pure teenager and deadpanned, "It's peachy, thanks for asking."

Dean shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Okay, I probably deserved that. But you're surviving, right? This," he swallowed, gesturing to encompass their unconventional household. "Us. It's not too much is it?"

"It's not ideal. Obviously. But ideal would be that impossible fantasy where my dad's not crispy fried and my mom's not a whore."

Dean flinched. "Jake—"

"But I'm willing to overlook your rampant gayness," Jake continued. "I can handle a few fucktards at school."

"Language," Dean murmured, wanting nothing more than to gather the boy close. Which he might have done, despite Jake's warning glare, except Dani chose that exact moment to awaken and her frustrated cries rapidly increased in crescendo.

"Your turn," Jake said cheerfully, kicking off his shoes. He used the remote to turn the TV back on.

Dean chuckled, the somberness of the moment gone, and went to get the baby. He ruffled the top of Jake's head when he passed behind the couch, unable to resist making contact.

"And make me a sandwich!" Jake threw over his shoulder.

"Damned smartass kid with his smart mouth and his big eyes," Dean muttered, kissing the baby's angry face when she latched onto his neck, tiny fingers pinching. "Here I thought your brother was going to be an easy repeat of your uncle Sammy, Dani-girl."

He efficiently traded her wet diaper for a dry one and nabbed a couple of toys from the basket by her bed before leaving her room. "But no. He's me. For the love of all that's holy. How is that fair?"

"Life's not fair, Deano!" Jake offered from the living room over the sound of a machine gun.

"That movie better be PG-13, young man," Dean retorted and then winced. _Christ._ His vagina was growing again. He nabbed a beer from the fridge along with Dani's premixed bottle of formula. He bounced the baby on his shoulder for a second before sighing heavily and opening the fridge to return the beer and retrieve the makings of a ham sandwich. _Goddamned smart mouthed kid and his big eyes_, he thought again.

He added a too large pile of Cheeto balls to Jake's plate alongside his sandwich and tucked Dani's bottle under his chin before stomping out to the living room to feed both of his kids.

…

"What _is_ this movie?" Cas gasped, lifting his head to peer between the impala's headrests. The sounds coming through the speakers were otherwordly and borderline pornographic.

Or maybe that was Dean.

"Does it matter?" Dean asked, yanking Cas' face back into position so he could suck at his bottom lip. It had been several weeks since the two of them had had some quality backseat time, and on _that_ particular night, one of them had been wearing a cape.

Currently, neither of them was wearing a shirt.

"We're going to get arrested," Cas whispered, sucking at Dean's earlobe.

"Oh, _fuck_, I don't care," Dean moaned, canting his hips up and brushing his denim-clad erection against Cas'. "It's been too long."

Cas chuckled. "Since you were arrested or since you were laid?"

"Both." Dean shoved his hand between their bellies so he could unbutton Cas' jeans.

Cas caught his hand in his fist and gripped it tight. "Pants on, remember?" he inhaled on a shudder when Dean worked on finger beneath the elastic of his underwear. "Oh God, whose idea was this?"

"Yours," Dean panted, knocking his head against the armrest, laughing breathlessly when his hand got caught inside Cas' waistband. "Shit, I'm stuck."

Cas snorted and lifted his hips to give Dean room to wiggle his fingers free. He sat back on his heels, as much as he could with so little headroom, and grinned. "We're definitely too old for this."

Dean grinned and ran a palm down his chest, combing his fingers through the thin dark trail of hair beneath his belly button. "Speak for yourself."

Cas dipped forward to catch his lips, lingering long enough to incite that familiar buzz of anticipation. "Let's get out of here."

Dean relaxed and let Cas kiss him, his mouth, his face, his neck. "Okay. Where are we going?"

"Ahh…"

They stared at one another for a beat.

Dani and Jake were at Bobby's and not due to be picked up for another hour and a half.

And there was a big, empty bed in a quiet, empty house just down the road.

"What the fuck are we doing crammed in the backseat like a couple of teenagers?" Dean asked incredulously.

Cas grinned and bailed over the seat. He had the ignition turned and the car slammed into reverse before Dean even had time to sit up.

"You're barefoot," Dean warned, still stuck in the back seat, holding on for dear life as Cas took a corner a shade too fast. "Be careful."

"Go ahead and get your pants off, Winchester. It'll save time."

"Yeah, I've heard that before," Dean grumbled.

Cas grinned wider when he heard the telltale sound of a zipper falling.

Jake politely ignored their too-damp hair and freshly-showered appearance when they arrived at Bobby's to pick he and Dani up. Twenty minutes late.

"Fucking grownups," he muttered with a yawn.

Later as he was falling asleep, he realized Cas' ring finger had been conspicuously bare. He flopped over onto his stomach, wincing when he hit the dodgy spring. "Dean Winchester's a chickenshit," he murmured, scooting left to bypass the sharp poke of metal. "Called it."

…


	21. Chapter 21

"Not interested," Gabe drawled, throwing back his tequila and sliding the shot glass down the bar until it clanked with Dean's empties.

"What do you mean, you're not interested," Sam huffed. "You sure as hell were interested a few nights ago."

"Guys. I'm sitting right here," Dean complained. His eyes crossed when he tried to focus on the lip of the bottle in his hand. He had switched to beer a few rounds ago, in the hopes he could still get it up when he got home.

_If_ he got home.

Currently it was looking more like he and Gabe would be crashing at Sam's tonight. It was now officially Christmas break, which meant it was also the Fifth Annual Dean and Gabe Drunken Orgy Night. Which typically ended with too much drunk and not enough orgy. Okay, it had never ended in orgy, but Dean could dream, right?

Cas, bless him, had pushed Dean out of the door, despite his protests, and ordered him to '_Go. Have a night off for fuck's sake'. _

"I really miss Cas, sexy bastard," Dean mumbled, tipping the bottle and draining it. "I could have my hands down his pants right now."

"Dude." Gabe elbowed him in the ribs. "You're thinking out loud again." He signaled the bartender for another round.

"Jesus, Gabe, how many more are you going to drink?" Dean set his bottle beside Gabe's shot glasses, grinning when it rolled precariously on its base, like a basketball circling the net, before righting itself.

Gabe shrugged, looking entirely too unaffected for five—no, seven?—shots.

"As many as it takes."

"Can we please go back to the part where you won't go home with me? You've barely even seen my new apartment." Sam's words were slightly slurred, but his posture was completely relaxed as he rested his chin on a fist and gave Gabe the saddest eyes Dean had ever seen.

Dean snorted under his breath. If Gabe could resist _that_, then he was more man than Dean had ever proven to be.

Gabe heaved a long-suffering sigh and threw back the contents of his glass, immediately sucking a lime wedge. His lips were still shiny when he turned to face Sam, expression serious. "I don't fuck where my brother's blazed a trail." He shrugged, teeth flashing white in the dim interior, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "That's where he and I differ."

"Oh, God." Dean slapped his hands over his ears. He did _not_ want to hear the rest of this conversation. He slid off the stool, catching the edge of the bar with a shaky hand when the floor seemed to slant away. "I'm going to go lie down in the back."

"Pansy ass," Gabe grunted at his retreat, before waving for another drink.

"I'm not sleeping with your brother," Sam said quietly, finding his voice. "I wouldn't do that, and you know it. Jesus, Gabe, how long have you known me?" He waited, watching the single strand of colored Christmas lights over the bar flicker in Gabe's hazel eyes.

"Too long," Gabe said finally, with a heavy sigh. "Too _damn_ long to still be harboring this stupid fucking crush. Look." He picked up the newly filled glass and studied the gold liquid before setting it aside. Dean was right; he had had enough. "You're the hottest thing I've ever had the pleasure of putting my hands on."

Sam blushed, ducking his head.

"Sam."

"What?"

Gabe waited until he met his eyes again. "I want you. I've _always_ wanted you. But I'm not waiting around while you play Russian roulette with my heart."

"Is that what your friend Matt was? You not waiting around?" Sam asked bitterly. Gabe's words stung, because there was too much truth behind them. Sam had been waffling, withholding his full involvement in this thing between them, even before Lucifer had shown up at the hospital and focused his campaign of flirtatious commentary and attention in Sam's direction.

Gabe slid off the stool, thinking maybe he'd head to Ellen's stock room and snuggle with Dean. Hell, Dean was most likely passed out by now, and his face in the morning when he woke up next to Gabe would at minimum be good for a laugh. Not a bad consolation prize since his heart was in the process of cracking right down the middle.

"You know? Matt's a great guy." He lobbed his parting remark where he knew it would inflict the most damage, because he was drunk and on the defensive. "And bonus! He's not my brother's type."

Sam's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. Nor did he follow Gabe as the shorter man staggered to the kitchen, squeezing past Jo in the doorway.

Jo raised her brows as she rested her elbows on the shiny surface of the bar. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing," Sam gestured at his glass. "Hit me again, Jo."

"I think you've had enough, baby Winchester."

"Jo," Sam warned. "Don't fuck with me, okay? Just give me another drink."

She rolled her eyes but did as he asked, reaching under the counter to grab something as she did. She dropped it on the top of the bar, right next to Sam's glass.

He frowned, picking up the sprig of greenery. "Mistletoe?" He chuckled, a sudden melancholy gripping him. "I don't think—"

"Sam," Jo interrupted. "Shut up and go get your man."

Sam huffed, grinning, and threw back his shot, one last hit of liquid courage. Then he stood, knees quaking, and he knew he couldn't attribute all of that unsteadiness to the variety of liquor he had consumed tonight. He ducked into the back and down the narrow hall to the small room where Ellen stored supplies.

When he peeked through the storeroom door, Gabe was on the floor, tucked against Dean's side, head pillowed on a rolled up puffy ski jacket. Dean was snoring, mouth slack.

Sam silently closed the door behind him and bent over, grabbing Gabe's ankles and yanking hard. Gabe slid across the cold concrete on his back, sputtering awake.

"What the fu—" Gabe gasped, disoriented. He blinked up at the shadowy figure looming over him in the dim light that leaked under the door. "Sam? Jesus Christ. What are you doing?"

"Shut up," Sam growled, grabbing Gabe by the front of his shirt and hauling him to his feet. "Shut up for one _goddamn_ minute so I can think."

Instead of thinking he slammed his mouth into Gabe's, absorbing the other man's wince when a tooth nicked a lip. Sam didn't let go, not even to apologize, holding him firmly in place with a palm at the back of his head. But he licked the small cut gently with his tongue, swallowing the sting and the coppery taste of blood, moaning when Gabe finally yielded and began to kiss him back.

Sam dragged him backwards, flipping their position so he could push Gabe against a narrow section of bare sheetrock, pinning him in place with his hips, hands working at the buttons of his shirt.

Gabe's head lolled to the side when he bit into his neck. "Jesus, _Sam,"_ he breathed, gripping Sam's biceps so tight his fingers burned from the twist of fabric around his knuckles.

Sam sucked at the skin under his jaw, dragging his cheek across Gabe's short beard, then systematically worked his way back to his mouth, kissing the now swollen lower lip. He plunged his tongue inside in frustration when he became aggravated at all the clothes that were separating their naked skin.

"Get. This. Off." He tugged anxiously at the hem of Gabe's shirt.

Gabe chuckled, pushing Sam's hands aside and finishing the buttons. "This is a terrible idea."

"I think I already told you to shut up," Sam growled again, pushing the shirt from his shoulder and latching onto a newly revealed patch of skin.

"You did," Gabe panted. "But I'm not sure why. Also, I think the room just tilted."

Sam glanced up. "No it didn't." He went back to sucking on Gabe's altogether too delicious-smelling neck. _God._ What was he wearing anyway? He smelled like candy apples and musk and grass.

"Sam," Gabe whispered, sliding his hands under Sam's t-shirt, sighing when he encountered the warm skin and taut muscles of his abdomen. "Sam, this isn't playing fair and you know it."

Sam paused in his assault to cup Gabe's face, and he kissed him gently. "I don't give a fuck about fair." He exhaled, closing his eyes. "I want you."

"For how long?" Gabe asked, fingers on Sam's belt buckle, hating himself for asking, for still being sober enough to wonder.

"I don't want anyone else," Sam offered, but it wasn't an answer and they both knew it. "How did we get off track?" He shook his head sadly.

Gabe pulled Sam's hips against his own but abandoned his quest to rid him of his pants. He nipped at Sam's jaw, hissing when the faint stubble hit his sore lip. "Next time you bite me, Doc, can you make it in a more pleasurable spot? I'd be happy to provide a list of suitable locations."

Sam grinned, kissing him softly in apology. "Will you come home with me now?"

"Yes," Gabe sighed. "God knows why, you're nothing but trouble. I knew it the first moment I laid eyes on you." He let out an embarrassing facsimile of a chicken's squawk when Sam grabbed him by the ass and thrust him upward, fitting his thighs around his waist. "_Holy God_, this should be humiliating, but_ fuck,_ it's not."

Sam swallowed his moan, kissing him hard enough to bruise already sore lips. "_You_ were trouble, Gabe. You. Not me." He buried his nose in the side of his neck. "It's Christmas," he mumbled against the warm skin.

Gabe chuckled and raked his fingers through Sam's too-long hair. "It is."

Sam lifted his face, eyes twinkling. "Someone owes me a lap dance," he winked. "It's tradition."

"Someone's got his lap otherwise occupied," Gabe smirked, wiggling his hips. "Unless you meant Dean. In which case, you should probably let me down so I can go molest him while he's drunk enough to be agreeable."

Sam grunted, dropping Gabe's legs, enjoying like hell the way their bodies slid against each other on his way down. "Cas would murder you. And then I would help him hide the body."

"Cas is my brother, we grew up sharing," Gabe quipped, buttoning his shirt.

Sam brushed his hands aside and did the buttons himself. "No," he said quiet but serious. "Not this time."

"Ditto," Gabe replied, cocking his head.

Sam had the grace to flush and he leaned forward to kiss him, brushing a thumb gently across his jaw. "I've been saying that. You just haven't been listening," he whispered.

"I'm listening now." Gabe stepped back and pulled open the door. "Let's go christen that new bed of yours."

"And no Matt's," Sam said fiercely as they crossed the kitchen. He waved at Ellen. "Or Tom's or Adam's or Dick's."

"No dicks?" Gabe clutched at his heart with his free hand. His other hand was currently tightly wound around Sam's. "Are you sure? I like dick."

"Jesus Christ," Ellen muttered, turning away with a grin.

"One dick per customer, Mr. Goodwin. And you've already placed your order." Sam returned Jo's wink when they passed her on their way out.

Gabe snorted and squeezed his hand. "I can live with that."

…

Jo drove Dean home after closing, laughing as she wrested him from the front seat and walked him to the door. She knocked softly, not wanting to wake the baby, unable to find Dean's keys in his hip pocket. Cas opened the door, smiling groggily, hair in all directions, chest bare.

Dean grinned. "Hi!"

Cas chuckled, nodding goodbye to Jo and wrapping an arm around Dean's waist. "Hi." He winced when Dean leaned forward to nuzzle his cheek. "Jesus, did you leave _any_ booze for the other customers?"

"Nope. Drank it all," Dean reported cheerfully, planting a sloppy kiss on the side of Cas' mouth. "Let's have sex."

"Shhh," Cas shushed him on a breathless laugh. One of Dean's hands was already working on the drawstring of his pajama pants. "Baby's sleeping."

"Where's Jake?" Dean stage-whispered, peering over Cas' shoulder to the couch. He frowned when he saw the throw pillows neatly lining the back cushions, but no teenager.

"He spent the night at Bobby's so he can get up early and work in the shop tomorrow. Remember?"

Bobby had grudgingly consented to allowing the boy to work at the shop in exchange for a beat up old Chevy Nova in the field out back. It would be up to Dean and Jake to make her run, though.

"Nope," Dean slurred, diving forward again but missing Cas' lips entirely, almost knocking his forehead on a bare shoulder. "Hold still."

Cas freed Dean's hand where it had gotten tangled in the waistband of his pants and squeezed his fingers. "I _am_ standing still. You're weaving. Come on. I think a nice, hot shower might be just the thing."

"Mmm, wet Cas. Yes," Dean murmured, dutifully following when Cas led him down the hall. "Why are you wearing pants again?"

"Because—" Cas laughed softly. "Actually that's an excellent question." He pulled Dean's wayward palm off of his butt. "And we'll rectify that as soon as we sober you up."

He groaned when Dean tried to squeeze through the bathroom door at the same moment as him, grinding their groins together purposefully. "No orgies," Dean whispered, placing a too-wet kiss on Cas' jaw. "Not when my sexy fireman is home waiting with his gorgeous eyes and his big—"." His head popped up and he blinked. "I bought you a ring."

Cas' eyebrows shot up. "You did?" He grabbed the hem of Dean's t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Dean got stuck in the neck hole, laughing and twisting his face back and forth while Cas worked him free.

"Yeah," he gasped, sucking in a lungful of air when he emerged. "But it's a secret."

"Good to know. I won't tell me." Cas smiled and dragged Dean's fingers to a less porny position at his waist. The drunk fuck was so handsy, he was having trouble keeping his own arousal in check.

"See that you don't," Dean said solemnly, wagging a finger. He slumped forward, yawning and wedging his forehead under Cas' chin. "Tired," he mumbled.

Cas soothed his hands down Dean's bare back, kissing his temple and holding him close. He frowned at the unmistakable _bar_ scent permeating his skin and hair. "Shower then bed, babe. Okay?"

"You too." Dean kissed Cas' collarbone, lingering long enough it made Cas' breath catch in his throat.

"Yeah, okay. Let me start the water."

Dean sat on the toilet while Cas adjusted the shower curtain and water temperature. He grinned happily when Cas kneeled in front of him to remove his boots and socks. "You're pretty."

"Thanks," Cas replied dryly. He set the boots aside and reached for Dean's belt, sliding the leather through the buckle, pulling it free of the loops with a flourish.

"You're also really hot," Dean said with feeling.

Cas smiled patiently and unbuttoned Dean's jeans, lowering the zipper. Not too much going on below the waist, he noted; the liquor had probably had its way with Dean's libido, no matter what kind of signals his brain might be firing off.

Dean stood when Cas nudged him up and let his jeans fall to the floor, wiggling his hips when Cas tugged his boxers down. "Huh," he mused, staring at his apparently uninterested crotch. "Houston, we have a problem."

Cas kissed his stomach before he stood, loosening the drawstring on his pajama pants and stepping out of them.

"Oh oh oh," Dean chuckled gleefully, rubbing his hands together in delight. "And we're back!"

Cas snorted and pushed him toward the shower. "I'm not sure whether to kiss you for being so fucking adorable or shove your head under the water to sober your ass up."

"Kiss me, baby, adorable always wins." Dean sputtered when the water hit his open mouth before he was ready.

"I have a feeling that's always been your problem," Cas muttered turning him roughly toward the spray and reaching up to thoroughly wet his hair. He shampooed him twice, hoping the stale cigarettes and cheap perfume were flowing down the drain with the waning suds.

"Me now, my turn," Dean complained, neatly turning back to face him. He blinked and wove unsteadily.

Cas laughed, grabbing his waist to right him. "You all right there, hoss?"

"Dizzy," Dean mumbled. He rubbed the water from his eyes. "I'm _drunk_."

"Yeah," Cas grinned. "You are." He couldn't resist kissing him, wet and warm and slightly uncoordinated. Dean was right; he _was_ adorable.

Cas washed them both perfunctorily, Dean stealing kisses when he could time his aim just so, and then dried them with a fluffy white towel. He slapped Dean's ass and pointed him toward the bedroom door. "Go get in bed. I'll be right there."

"Cas," Dean said from the doorway, voice soft and tinged with a hint of sadness.

"Yeah?"

"I missed you tonight. And the kids."

Cas smiled. "We missed you too." He shook the water from the shower curtain and hung the towels over the shower rod. "Dani kept looking for you. It was pretty cute."

He stopped where Dean was sagged against the doorframe and pressed their mouths gently together. "You'll have to read her _two_ stories tomorrow night to make up for it."

Dean smiled, eyes closed, and licked his lips. "Mmm, you taste better than tequila. Or beer."

"Okay, Winchester, you're losing it now. Off to bed with you."

Dean was a lovable drunk, which Cas sort of remembered from their first night together. He had a leg wedged between Cas' thighs and an arm thrown around his waist, and his lips were permanently attached to Cas' neck, just below his ear.

Cas' dick twitched in anticipation and he sighed, wiling it to stand down; Dean was already snoring softly. "Night, Dean," he whispered fondly, kissing his unshaven cheek. Dean murmured in his sleep and wound his way tighter around him. "Affectionate fucker," he sighed contentedly, and followed Dean to sleep.

…

When Cas woke, it was light. _Too _light. He sat up in a panic. _Dani._ He had never gotten up to feed Dani.

He threw off the covers and rolled out of the bed. Dean groaned, blinking groggily. "Wha's thamatter," he mumbled, holding a hand over his eyes.

"Dani," Cas gasped, "Dani didn't wake up."

Dean lowered his hand and peered at the clock, squinting to read the time. _6:52 a.m._

"So, she slept all night. Babe, that's a good thing." Dean's voice was rusty, rough, and he swallowed, grimacing at the foul taste on his tongue. The baby hadn't slept through the night since they had brought her home; usually up at least once but often twice. Dean swore it was because she liked that damn rocking chair so much. "_Fuck,_ my head hurts," he groaned again.

Cas pulled a pair of boxers from the top drawer and yanked them on, too-quiet baby monitor in hand. He held it to his ear and paused by the door.

"Cas?"

He turned back, face pale. "I can't," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Dean."

Dean was already out of bed, grabbing underwear from the open drawer. "I'll get her." He kissed Cas' cheek when he squeezed past. "Stop. You're scaring me," he whispered.

Dean disappeared through the nursery door and Cas waited, leaning against the wall for an interminable minute, knuckles white where they squeezed the receiver. He slid to the floor with a _thump._ "Fuck," he breathed, covering his face with his hands when Dean didn't immediately return with the baby.

Dean stepped quietly into the hall, frowning when he saw Cas' slumped figure. He crouched down beside him, brushing his fingers through his hair, massaging the nape of his neck.

"She's fine. Cas," he leaned forward and kissed his dark head. "Babe, she's sound asleep, butt in the air, pink little cheeks. The whole nine yards." When Cas didn't respond he squeezed his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Just give me a minute," Cas said from behind his hands.

Dean sat down beside him and waited.

Cas exhaled a shaky breath, dropping his hands and giving Dean a rueful look. "Sorry. Guess I panicked."

"It's okay." Dean said, not even trying to hide his relief. He would be perfectly happy if he never saw that look on Cas' face again as long as he lived. He leaned forward to kiss him good morning. "I feel like shit," he whispered.

Cas snorted and cupped Dean's jaw in his palm. "You look like shit," he grinned and rolled to his feet. "You go back to bed and I'll get you some aspirin and make coffee." He willed his heart to slow down, concentrating on Dean's handsome profile.

'Oh _God_, I'm in love with you," Dean moaned, gesturing for Cas to help him up. He grabbed his head in his hands when he stood, the pounding incrementally worse with each beat of his heart. "Ow. _Jesusfuck_ how much did I drink?"

Cas guided him toward their bedroom, keeping Dean's trim waist under his hands, allowing himself to drink in his warmth, chase away the chill of fear that still lingered. "Too much, I suspect. You were pretty loaded."

Dean winced when he climbed onto the bed. "Did you take advantage of me, Fireman Novak? I seem to be a little," he paused and looked at Cas through his lashes. "Sore?"

"You can stow your charisma for now, Winchester. I'm not fucking you before breakfast."

"Oh come on," Dean whined, falling back on the bed. "Why not? I don't feel so hot. It'd be good medicine."

Cas crawled onto the bed after him, garnering a surprised smile from Dean when he lowered himself over his body. _"You're_ good medicine." He pressed their lips together, catching one of Dean's hands and lacing their fingers. He thought about Dean's confession, his secret ring, and wondered how long he would have to wait for the asshole to work up the nerve to give it to him. He hoped his face didn't reveal the butterflies tearing through his midsection. Dean ran his hands down his back, massaging the tension from his muscles when he feathered over a knot. "Mmm," Cas murmured. "I like that."

"Yeah?" Dean nuzzled his chin, nosing it aside so he could kiss his neck. "We could play massage parlor."

"Maybe later, I'm getting up now." Cas moved to go and Dean wrapped one leg around him, along with both arms.

"Nope. I didn't get my orgy, I'm fairly sure of that."

"_Fairly_ sure," Cas cocked one eyebrow, frowning.

"One hundred percent sure," Dean amended, squeezing Cas' butt. "But I didn't get my sex either. And I want sex."

"You always want sex."

Dean expression could only be labeled as _pouting_, which he knew Cas had a serious problem resisting. It was an altogether unfair manipulation technique.

Cas had no choice but to fight back.

He dipped his head so that he could nibble at an earlobe before speaking low in Dean's ear. "You fucked me from behind baby, and it was _so, so_ hot, _so_ good. I'm really sorry you don't remember." He aggressively tongued the bolt of Dean's jaw before launching himself off the bed.

"Fuck me," Dean exhaled, heart pounding, instantly hard. "_Please _tell me you're lying." He grabbed for Cas, who neatly dodged his hands.

"Nope," Cas smiled.

When he turned toward the door, Dean thought he saw what might be a fresh bite mark on the back of his shoulder and groaned. "Fuck," he breathed again, wondering what else he had forgotten in his drunken stupor. "Well at least promise me I get a do-over once my head stops exploding," he called to Cas' retreating figure. He massaged his temples and squeezed the bridge of his nose while he willed his stomach to stop rolling. He was _seriously_ nauseated now, and not just from apparently forgetting awesome drunken sex.

And by God he loved awesome drunken sex with Cas. He still had fantasies about their first night together, although he supposed that was a misnomer since it was all technically truth.

"Dean." Cas' voice from the door jarred him from his reverie.

"What," he rasped, clearing his throat and releasing the death grip he held on his temples.

"You also let me tie you up for a little while." Cas nodded to the headboard where a long, blue scarf dangled, before sauntering back to the kitchen.

"Oh my fucking _God," _Dean groaned in absolute misery. His dick pulsed furiously hard in his boxers and he grabbed it, rubbing it through the thin cotton to relieve the pressure. His head hurt too badly to keep up more than a half-hearted effort, so he abandoned that endeavor, whimpering as he scrunched his eyes closed. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, head and cock both throbbing with every punch of his pulse, like one or the other would like nothing better than to claim responsibility for the death of Dean Winchester.

He jumped when a cold hand slid low across his belly, and he peeked through his fingers to find Cas kneeling at the bedside, a towel-wrapped ice pack in one hand and a cooked piece of bacon in the other.

"What do you want?" he whined grumpily.

Cas shoved the bacon between his lips and positioned the cold pack on his temple. Dean hissed in response, catching the bacon before it fell to the pillow.

"This is your apology? Ice and pork fat?"

"No, _this_ is my apology," Cas said leaning forward to nuzzle Dean's belly, peeling away the waistband and kissing the head of his cock when it was released from the confines of the cotton. "Roll toward me, babe." He pulled at Dean's hip.

Dean moaned, chewing furiously. "Not fair," he gasped, grabbing at the ice pack when it wobbled as he followed Cas' command. "Not fair at all."

Cas hummed and sucked him gently between his lips, fingers too cold, Dean's thighs quivering from the stark contrast of hot tongue and cool hands as they parted his legs and worked his boxers off.

Dean had to abandon the bacon half-eaten, afraid he'd suck a piece into a lung, his breathing was so erratic. He lost the ice pack next, fingers finding purchase in Cas' dark hair instead, before retreating to fumble with the nightstand drawer several mouth-watering moments later. "You were lying," he gasped, when the bottle was nowhere near the top. He ignored Cas' dark chuckle and shoved the hard plastic container into his hand.

"I was." Cas teased his cock with one more gloriously wet swirl of his tongue before he sat back to flip the cap and pour slippery liquid into his palm. He kissed Dean's wrist when his impatient hands urged Cas' fingers into position. A few seconds later when he crooked a finger deep inside, the bed trembled with the force of Dean's reaction.

"Cas," Dean exhaled, air rushing from his lungs.

"Right here," Cas whispered, kissing his inner thigh, sliding his hand free, then standing and dropping his undergarment in one fluid motion. He manhandled Dean into an angle he could work with, reaching over to toss the ice pack closer to his head. "You might want to keep that in place. This could take a while," he stated entirely too calmly before wrapping Dean's legs around his waist and essentially lighting him on fire with one deep stroke.

"Mother of _God!"_ Dean hissed, barely containing his shout. Desperate, he clawed at Cas' arms as he rocked into him, until he relented, allowing Dean to lace their fingers. Dean fisted himself while he absorbed the shockwaves of pleasure with each long, smooth thrust. The bag of ice must have sprung a leak because an ice-cold trickle ran behind his head, pooling at the back of his neck, threatening to drive him over the ledge.

Cas' face was focused, controlled, but when his movements stuttered, Dean knew he was close.

"I love you," he whispered, squeezing their palms together.

Cas placed a knee on the bed for leverage and moved over him on the mattress, Dean's strong thighs keeping their connection intact while Cas stretched to meet his lips. "I love you too," he said, voice husky and deep, eyes full of feeling.

Cas came with a gasp, breaking free of Dean's mouth and throwing his head back, hips taut, frozen in a moment of ecstasy. He pulled almost all the way out before sliding back in, shuddering, rubbing his free hand up and down Dean's torso.

Dean must have whined from the sheer gorgeous spectacle he made because Cas smiled tiredly in response, a droplet of sweat falling from his forehead as he dipped forward to kiss him again. "Sorry, Winchester. I beat you to the finish line again."

"It's not a race," Dean huffed, pulse jumping, Cas' fingers _so fucking close_ to where he needed them to be. "But you can still finish it."

Cas chuckled and fit his sweat-slick palm around Dean, pulling him nice and slow in long strokes.

"Not slow, you asshole, _fast_," Dean groaned, eyes closing. Fucker was doing the slow, sexy thing on purpose, and he was still filling him up, the burn too good; if Dean didn't know better, he would think Cas had found a way to seat himself exactly against his prostate just to torture him.

Cas released Dean's hand to grip his ass, pulling him higher and holding him in place while he stroked him, brushing a fingertip against the slit, twisting his wrist at just the right angle to produce a sensation so good it was almost painful. He rocked into Dean, underscoring their connection as he touched him, until Dean came over his hand and their bellies with a long sigh, biting hard into his lip.

Cas slid free, letting Dean's exhausted legs fall to the bed before he collapsed on top of him.

They lay tangled, breaths mingling, for several long moments.

"_Good_ morning," Dean said with feeling.

Cas started to laugh and dug the half-eaten bacon out from under his hip, tossing it to the foot of the bed. They kissed long and slow, unable to hold back their smiles. "Good morning, Mr. Winchester."

He gingerly replaced the ice pack on Dean's head, wrinkling his nose in apology when he winced. "How's the head? Still need that aspirin?"

"Just lay here with me for a minute, okay?" Dean asked, lacing his fingers behind Cas' back. "That's better than drugs."

Cas let Dean cuddle him close, smiling as he remembered an early night they spent together and Dean's protestations that he most certainly did _not_ cuddle. _Rank liar_. Dean was addicted to touch, all forms, which happened to be perfectly okay because Cas was addicted to Dean.

The monitor fuzzed, a brief burst of static before a baby's whimper and snuffling cry fed over the line.

"The princess has awoken," Dean intoned.

Cas chuckled and pressed his lips to the span of skin where he knew he would feel Dean's heart beating strong and sure. "I'll get her. _And_ the drugs. You stay in bed."

Dean sighed happily, dragging a blanket over his legs. "I could get used to being spoiled." Before Cas disappeared down the hall, Dean called out. "Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"What's the scarf for, if you were lying?" Dean gestured to the long strip of soft blue fabric still tied to the head of the bed.

"Wishful thinking," Cas winked.

Dean's mouth worked. _Well._ Looked like he had some plotting to do.

…

Dean parked across from the fire station and smiled, running a hand along the smooth, shining dash of his baby. He had spent the afternoon at the garage, Dani playing in a popup playpen (when she wasn't in the baby sling, dangling off of Ash' chest while he waited on customers). Jake had already completed his very first oil change by the time Dean and Dani had arrived, and Dean had to tamp down his huge swell of pride lest the kid hurt himself from the force of his own eyeroll. Instead, Dean handed him fifty bucks in cash to detail the Impala.

God only knew why Dani loved Ash, but she did, cooing and kicking in delight when she spotted his ugly mulleted head over Dean's shoulder. Dean passed the happy baby off and stripped down to his plain white tee. He flexed his fingers and inhaled the familiar scent of hot rubber and ancient motor oil; time to get greasy.

…

Several hours later, and spit polished to a sleek shine, both Dean and the car were in top form in the waning daylight outside of the stately old firehouse. Dani and Jake were having dinner at Ellen's with Bobby.

Unbeknownst to Cas, Dean was spiriting him away for a dinner date. And Dean had endured no less than eight minutes of progressively bawdy ribbing from Rufus to arrange it. As tempting as it was to show up grease-splattered and sweaty, (_nothing_ revved Cas' engines faster than the scent of some synthetic 5W-30 on Dean's neck),Dean had gone home to shower and change into his best suit. He preened at his reflection in the rearview mirror. _ Not bad. _

Dark charcoal, with a fine grey pinstripe and narrow lapel, the jacket fit him like a second skin. He had purchased the three-pieces as an extravagance a few years ago, when it looked like Sammy might actually get married to a girl he was dating long-term in college. Secretly, Dean liked clothes. He didn't have much opportunity to _wear_ fancier threads, so he maintained a personal philosophy to spend more money on fewer quality pieces that would stand the test of time. This suit fell under that mantra.

The waistcoat was his favorite part. Five-button, it nipped his waist in tight, stopping just shy of the buckle of his belt. The chain of his dad's pocket watch, one of the only surviving pieces of family memorabilia he had left, was looped through the central buttonhole, the watch tucked into a double-welt pocket.

The jacket and pants had been custom-tailored, to the tune of an additional two hundred dollars, and Dean's vanity was such that he occasionally took the suit out of the closet to ensure it still fit like a glove.

It did.

He touched the Windsor knot of his dark green tie and climbed out into the street, inhaling the sharp, winter chill in the air. He could not _wait_ to see the look on Cas' face. He smirked, patting the pocket that held the ring, and crossed the road.

…


	22. Chapter 22

Cas slowly walked the perimeter of the big engine, pausing occasionally to record his observations on a clipboard. There were handheld devices in larger fire departments that could instantly transfer safety check information wirelessly to the chief's computer. But Rufus was old school and he liked his clipboard.

So Cas used a clipboard.

He turned the corner, crossing a triangular swath of light from a streetlamp, gaze catching on feet where there should be none. He lowered the clipboard. "Can I hel—"

Dean stepped into view and the question froze on Cas' tongue. He fumbled with his pen and it fell, spinning across the stained concrete floor before rolling to a stop against one high-polished toe.

"Holy fuck," Cas exhaled. He thought about moving, but decided swallowing was his primary concern. And breathing. Breathing would be good.

"Hey, Cas." Dean bent over and picked up the pen.

"Holy fuck," Cas said again, tossing the clipboard behind him. It skated across the smooth floor, sliding under a workbench on the far right wall. He advanced, steps slow, and Dean waited, face alight with a cocky grin.

"How. I." Cas swallowed again, the sides of his throat scraping with sudden dryness. His eyes traveled to Dean's shoes and back to his face and he licked his lips. "What the_ fuck_ are you wearing?" He was close enough he could smell Dean's cologne and he breathed deep, nostrils flaring.

Dean shrugged lightly. "I'd like to take you to dinner." He stood very still, enjoying immensely the way Cas' eyes skipped over his body, his face, then his body again, unsure where to land, as though he couldn't quite process the man standing in front of him. Dean grinned to himself. _Mission accomplished. _

Cas reached out, fingers tracing the button edge of the waistcoat, then the chain of the watch, before sliding his palm inside the jacket to firmly clasp Dean's waist. He tugged once, hard, and Dean had to take a quick step forward or lose his balance.

Dean didn't have time to process more than _blue_ before Cas was kissing him, mouth pressing into his, tongue dancing along the edge of his teeth, tangling up with his own, warm and desperate. Someone moaned; Dean wasn't sure who.

The hand at his waist slid around and down to squeeze his ass and Dean broke away with a laugh, head spinning, sucking in a much-needed hit of oxygen.

"Don't you dare move," Cas growled, crowding him, effectively removing all space between them, shoulder to thigh.

Dean chuckled, stealing another quick kiss. "I wasn't planning on it." His hands had automatically landed on Cas' hips at some point and he squeezed. Cas was wearing his dark blue regulation pants, along with that damned too-tight t-shirt with the extra large white letters on the back. Dean had had some terrific daydreams about Cas' fireman's wardrobe, and more than half of them involved peeling this very tee from his body.

Dean's lips parted to tell Cas they should get going, he had only convinced Rufus to allot them an hour, but Cas covered his mouth with a hand and backed him into the shadows against the engine's door.

"Shh," Cas whispered. He ran his hands from Dean's trim waist to his armpits and then back to his butt, relishing the foreign textures, the fitted vest wrapped so snugly around Dean's torso the biggest fucking turn-on he'd had in days. Weeks even. The pocket watch dug into his belly and he dragged his gaze from green, green eyes down to where they were pressed together at hip level.

"I think I'm dreaming," he murmured. He touched the sleek black belt at Dean's waist, then the careful, precise knot of his tie. He ran a fingertip lightly along the starched white collar, before cupping his face and dragging across Dean's bottom lip with his thumb.

Dean grinned, out of breath, nerves buzzing. Hot _damn_, lust-crazed Cas was alluring. Apparently this ensemble was at least twice as compelling as motor oil and a grease-stained t-shirt. He mused (briefly, Cas was nibbling at his jaw and Dean could only manage to string a few thoughts together at a time when there were teeth involved), that it might fun to combine the two one day, put the mechanic under the suit.

Cas might actually disintegrate.

"What are you grinning at?" Cas asked gruffly against his ear.

"You," Dean laughed. "I'm plotting your death."

"Does it involve wearing this suit? Because I could be convinced of a hell of a lot if it involves you walking around looking like this." He cupped Dean's butt with both hands and rolled his hips against him. "Forever."

Dean sucked in a breath. "You're one to talk," he framed Cas' face in his hands and brushed his open mouth lightly across his lips. He touched the tips of their tongues before leaning back, laughing at Cas' grunt of frustration. "You've been driving me fucking crazy with _your_ costumed role-playing for _months._"

"This is not role-playing, Dean," Cas ground out between his teeth, trying unsuccessfully to catch his mouth again. "These are my clothes."

"Batman?" Dean quirked an eyebrow and Cas blinked.

"Oh, right," he grinned. He squeezed Dean's butt again. "Touché."

Dean chuckled, then gasped when Cas leaned all of his body weight into him, pinning him against the engine's door. "What are you up to," he managed to say before biting his lip to hold back a groan. Cas' mouth was skirting the edge of his collar, sucking hard at the exposed skin, hips rolling in a purposeful rhythm.

"I'm going to rut against you until you've been punished for distracting me while I'm at work," Cas said coolly.

"No, wait!" Dean pushed at Cas' waist, holding him back and laughing at his furious glare.

"Why?" Cas asked peevishly. His hands left Dean's ass and snaked around to his chest, scratching deliberately over the fabric covering his nipples.

Dean inhaled deep, horny as hell and aching in a half dozen really awesome places. "Dinner. We're having dinner," he managed before giving him a wink. "Then you can rut."

Cas studied him thoughtfully and Dean fidgeted when he didn't speak for several seconds. "Why don't we skip dinner and I'll bend you over a dumpster in the alley behind the station instead?"

"Goddammit, Cas," Dean groaned, shoving a hand between them to drag the heel of his palm across his very obvious erection, shifting himself inside his pants. Expensive tailoring apparently didn't include room for arousal.

Cas chuckled and put some much needed distance between them, pupils blown wide and dark, cheeks too pink. "Okay, Winchester. Dinner." He waved a hand toward the street. "Lead the way."

Dean held out a hand, confused when Cas shook his head. "What? You're coming with me."

"No, I'm following you. I want to watch your gorgeous ass walk away so I can objectify you from every angle."

Dean scratched at his jaw and shrugged. "I can do that," he grinned. He crossed the street, making sure his strut was extra self-assured and (he hoped) sexy.

It must have worked because there was an extended gap between Cas climbing into the passenger seat and Dean turning the ignition. And hands. There were lots of hands. And tongue.

The windows fogged a little.

Dean shoved Cas to his side of the car. "Put your seatbelt on, Novak," he said sternly, wiping his mouth.

The engine roared to life.

…

The walls in Bobby's house were too thin.

Sound had a way of carrying from room to room, Jake discovered. An hour after arriving, he had already learned that Gabe was hopelessly in love with Sam (but didn't have the balls to tell him) and Sam was probably in love with Gabe (but wasn't admitting it yet because he spent far too much time on self-analysis and not enough time on legitimately enjoying life). Oh and Lucifer, Gabe's brother, was a smarmy asshole who didn't really want Sam long-term but enjoyed fucking with his brother enough that he was willing to screw Sam for kicks and giggles until something better came along.

None of this was said in so many words, but Jake had gotten adept at reading people. The foster care system had a way of enhancing perceptiveness and exponentially increasing the accuracy of snap judgment calls.

He patted Dani's back and the baby smiled gummily at him, chewing on the soft-sided rattle he had dug from her diaper bag. They were sitting in the floor, watching TV and waiting for Bobby to say dinner was ready. Jake assumed he was supposed to be impressed that they trusted him enough to leave him alone with the baby.

As if any of _them_ had an ounce of experience with infants.

Jake was not impressed.

He wondered how Dean was faring with the ring. Dude had fretted in front of the bathroom mirror for thirty minutes, minimum. Jake grinned. God save him if he was ever that gone on someone.

"So what, they're going to buy another house?" Lucifer asked dubiously. "On Cas' salary? And Dean's a teacher, right? Yeah, that's a fiscally responsible decision."

Sam frowned. "Nevermind that it's not really your business—"

"Or that you weren't invited to dinner so no one cares what you have to say," Gabe inserted. Sam threw him a warning glare and Gabe grinned. "What? I let him come, that doesn't mean I have to be nice to him."

"Anyway," Sam said, firmly taking back the conversation reins. "Dean's always been careful with money. I'm not worried."

"Well you probably should be." Lucifer shrugged. "I mean, come on. Cas? Cas has _always_ been a wild card. When has he ever settled in one place for more than six months?" He smiled when Gabe refused to meet his eyes. "See? And our boy is closing in on six months now, unless my math is rusty."

"He has Dean now, and the kids. He's not going anywhere." Sam's mouth was drawn into a tight line and he exchanged a worried glance with Bobby.

"Yeah, the _kids,_" Lucifer murmured. "Another brilliant move by your brother, and mine. What the hell were they thinking? That teen delinquent out there is a convenience store robbery waiting to happen."

"Shut up," Sam hissed, eyes darting to the kitchen door. "Shut up or leave. Your choice. And Jake's a good kid, he's just had a rough time."

Lucifer waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever. I've seen it before, I'll doubtless see it again. I hate that it's my brother, but like I said. Cas has always been a wild card. Hell, he'll probably be long gone before Jake's inevitable meltdown tears your happy little family apart."

"I think you should leave now." Bobby's words were quiet but firm and the kitchen fell silent.

"No, he's right," Gabe said quietly, laying a placating hand on Sam's arm when he stiffened. "He's right, about Cas. He's never been the one that sticks around, makes commitments." He turned to Lucifer with a sad expression. "But he's different now. If you spent more time with him and Dean, you'd know that."

"You're still leaving," Bobby said tightly, turning back to the stove to retrieve the lasagna that Ellen had sent over earlier.

"And that's my cue," Lucifer murmured. "Good thing I drove my own car, huh?"

Sam lifted his head at the baby's sharp cry. When she didn't immediately calm, he brushed behind Gabe, squeezing his hand. "I'll check on her."

In the living room, Dani was strapped snugly in her carseat, legs covered by a thin blanket, stuffed elephant tucked in beside her. She rubbed her eyes, lower lip thrust forward in a pout. She fussed louder when she saw Sam.

Jake was gone.

…

"What are you up to," Cas murmured when Dean rolled to a stop in the Singer Salvage parking lot.

"I told you," Dean said softly. "Dinner." He smiled and climbed from the car.

Cas followed, waiting patiently while Dean unlocked the door. Through the front window, he could see candles flickering.

"Hey. Your boyfriend is a fireman," he whispered. "Unattended candles are a fire hazard, you know."

Dean chuckled as the lock finally gave way, and hoped the faint trembling of his hand was unnoticeable in the dim light. He pushed the door open. "Ash just left. _ Hopefully_." He smiled sheepishly, ducking his head. "I had to have a little help setting this up."

Cas caught his arm before he crossed the threshold and pulled him close, kissing him softly. "You're my favorite mechanic."

Dean snorted. "You're just saying that because you want my body."

Cas reached down to fondle his butt and grinned. "Nailed it."

Dean grabbed his hand and pulled him into the body shop waiting room, the place they spent their first night together, the night that would ultimately change their lives forever. His pulse was fluttering wildly and the beat of his heart boomed in his ears; he wondered if Cas could hear it.

Ash had set up an ancient card table from the employee's lounge along with two metal folding chairs in the center of the room. Ellen had provided the crisp white tablecloth and, Dean was positive, the heavy silver candlesticks that held two fat white candles. The soft, flickering light cast a dancing shadow over something on the floor and Dean blushed when he realized it was a sleeping bag. Damn Ash, anyway, the romantic douchebag.

Cas tucked himself against Dean's back and kissed his neck. "This is really lovely."

Dean placed a hand over the one at his waist and squeezed. "The sleeping bag was not my idea," he said dryly, rubbing their jaws together when Cas leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

"I don't give a rat's ass whose idea it was. I'm all over that like white on rice. But," he growled, the hot breath in Dean's ear raising the gooseflesh on his skin. "_You_ are going to stay fully clothed for once."

Dean shuddered, eyes squeezed tightly shut, a barrage of wicked images flickering across his mind. "We could skip dinner," he said hopefully.

Cas set him aside with a laugh. "And let Ellen's hard work go to waste? I don't think so. She would kick both our asses."

They ate dinner at the small table, Roadhouse fare of cheeseburgers and thick-cut fries, fingers touching over the tablecloth, soft smiles flashing in the candlelight.

The ring burned a hole in Dean's pocket but he couldn't seem to find the right moment to present it.

Cas dragged him to the floor after they had eaten and laid him out on the sleeping bag. He removed Dean's jacket and shoes, but left everything else in place, despite Dean's bemused protests. He went over every spare inch of the handsome body underneath him, cataloguing the cut of the suit, the fit of the waistcoat, the length of the cuff where it covered the knob of a wrist bone. His used his eyes, then his hands, and finally his mouth, until Dean was a writhing, miserable, pleading mess, and even then he refused to give in.

"I'm _dying,_ Cas, get your ass down here and for the love of all that's holy, stick your goddamn tongue in my mouth." Dean pulled fruitlessly at the belt loops on his pants.

Cas grinned, prying Dean's fingers away, batting them aside when they reached for him again. He cupped his sex and Dean hissed, eyes rolling back. "I just want to look at you. This is entirely your fault, you know." He rubbed his middle finger along the crotch seam of Dean's trousers, smiling when his hips twitched. "You like that?"

"Yes,_ Jesus._"

Cas bent low to kiss the buckle of his belt, dipping his hand even further between his legs, as far as he could reach and then back. Dean was hard under his hand, painfully so, and his mouth watered when he glanced up to find dark green eyes watching him. "I'm going to make you scream," he murmured.

Dean's mouth worked and his hands scrambled for purchase on the sleeping bag. "Give it your best shot," he managed to groan, knowing it was a weak challenge at best.

Dean thought, belatedly, of the ring. The goddamn titanium circle, the symbol of love and commitment that had been the impetus for this entire evening, was still in his waistcoat pocket. He would have tried to intercede, but Cas was straddling his thighs, Dean's belt already undone, zipper lowering, and then too hot lips were on him and Dean was lost.

He didn't last long; hell, it was almost embarrassing how fast he came, but Cas had a way of shattering all of Dean's illusions of sexual prowess. He was too damn sexy and it had taken him nanoseconds to learn all of Dean's tells, and tonight Cas used that knowledge against him in the most delectable, wicked way.

Cas rested his forehead on Dean's stomach after, white shirttail pushed aside so that he could kiss the smooth skin. He was breathing too fast, but so was Dean, as though they'd run a mile together, a fast and furious sprint.

Dean relaxed his grip in Cas' hair, massaging his fingers against his scalp in apology. He had not only been proven a screamer, he was also a hair-puller. "I, uh," Dean swallowed, throat parched, body still tingling and warm. "I have something for you too."

Cas huffed a laugh, and the position of his mouth so low on Dean's torso blew warm air across his spent dick. It twitched weakly in response and Dean rolled his eyes; _down, boy._ Then he inhaled sharply when Cas kissed it anyway, a quick flick of tongue before propping his chin on his fist. His blue eyes were sparkling in the candlelight, hair a total loss, teeth flashing when he smiled.

"I might have some ideas for repayment if you're not feeling suitably creative." He slid a hand up the still-buttoned waistcoat to rub a finger across Dean's mouth.

Dean sucked his fingertip between his lips and playfully bit him, then pulled the hand back to his chest. He sat up suddenly, throwing Cas off balance. "Sorry." He grinned at Cas' frown. "Sit up."

"You're awfully bossy for someone who just had the best goddamn blow job of their life."

"True facts, baby," Dean whispered, leaning over to catch his mouth in a sultry kiss when Cas rolled to a sitting position beside him. He quickly zipped up his pants; he didn't want the moment he essentially _proposed_ to happen while the too-soft parts of his anatomy flopped around uselessly.

"Does this gift involve your mouth?" Cas murmured, kissing the sharp edge of Dean's jaw.

"No," Dean shook his head. "At least not at first." He pulled the ring from his pocket, twisting his head so Cas could kiss further back on his neck, taking advantage of his distraction.

"Then what is it?" Cas sighed contentedly and sat back. "I'm going to have to go back to work at some point, you know."

"I know, hold your horses." Dean's pulse was now beating double-time, and he could practically _feel_ his eyes dilate in fear. He might actually be about to hyperventilate.

"Dean?" Cas cocked his head in amusement. "You okay?"

"I love you," Dean blurted, grabbing his left hand and squeezing it hard.

Cas's brow furrowed and he smiled. "I love you, too. Especially," he wagged his eyebrows and bit his lip seductively. "Fancypants you."

Dean rolled his eyes good naturedly, appreciating the attempt at levity when he was clearly about to have a heart attack.

"I love you and I want you to wear my ring," Dean finally managed, a slight tremble in his voice and too much heart in his eyes. He opened his palm between them.

Cas' eyes fell to the ring, a narrow silver-edged band, darker charcoal strip down the center. He glanced back up at Dean and smiled. "It's about fucking time."

Dean laughed, the overwhelming rush of relief and love that suffused him nearly taking his breath away. He took Cas' hand and pushed the ring into place, forcing it over the knuckle of his ring finger, a moment of panic that it wouldn't fit allayed when it slid home. He sighed. "You're mine."

Cas' fingers tightened on the fabric of Dean's vest. He lifted the opposite hand to inspect the ring closer, smiling. "I was always yours, Dean."

"I wanted to make a grand gesture." Dean whispered fiercely, bringing the hand to his lips, kissing the knuckle below the ring. "And now maybe Missouri will get off my ass."

"She'll find something else to bitch about," Cas murmured. He pulled his hand from Dean's grasp and started to remove the ring.

"Wait!" Dean grabbed his hand, holding it tight. "What are you doing?"

Cas grinned in consternation. "I was going to look at it. Is that okay?" He watched in fascination as a flush deepened around Dean's neck, climbing the stubbly skin and coloring his cheeks a rosy hue.

"I don't think you should take it off," Dean muttered. He glared at Cas pointedly. "Ever."

"C'mere," Cas whispered, hand on Dean's neck. He sighed into his mouth when Dean kissed him, a half-ounce of desperation in the movement of his lips. "I was yours without the ring, Winchester. Don't be so superstitious."

"I'm not," Dean began, but his protest was interrupted when both his and Cas' phones rang at almost the same instant.

"Duty calls," Cas sighed. He smiled, squeezing Dean's hand before rolling to his feet. He checked his phone, frowning as he bent over the candles to blow them out. "Warehouse fire. All hands on deck."

"Cas." Dean's voice was shaky, alarmed as he listened to Sam on the other end. "Jake's missing."

…


	23. Chapter 23

Cas drove to the station too fast, cornering too sharp, wheels screaming, mouth grim as he listened to Dean's one-sided conversations first with Sam, then Gabe. The largest bay was already empty when they arrived, the big engine gone. Cas hit the ground running, sprinting up the stairs to his locker to grab his gear. The second and third engines were running, ready to pull out, and he gave Dean a hard kiss before he jumped on a low silver runner.

"We'll find him."

Dean nodded. "Be careful."

"I've got my phone," Cas called as the engine pulled away. "Keep me updated!"

Dean's hands were shaking so hard it took two tries to get the key in the impala's ignition. The drive home was brutally long; it felt like a month. A year.

Sam was waiting on the porch.

"Anything?" Dean slammed the door, taking the steps two at a time.

Sam shook his head. "No. Gabe stayed at Bobby's and I called Ash. He went across town to the station, then over to Ellen's. No one's seen him. Dean," Sam gripped his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Dean gave him a quick hug, slapping his back. "Not your fault, Sammy. He's smart. He'll figure out he fucked up and come back. He will." The last words were forceful and Dean's jaw clenched. "What happened?"

Sam grimaced. "Lucifer. God_dammit._" He shoved his hands through his hair, raking it back from his forehead. "If I get my hands on that stupid bastard." He broke off on an anguished look. "Dean, if anything happens to Jake—"

"It won't," Dean cut in. He gave Sam a hard look. "It _won't._"

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. "Jo?"

"Anything?" Jo's voice was worried and there was enough background noise detectable that Dean knew she was outdoors, downtown, probably in the bar district.

Dean's heart thudded a little faster as he thought of Jake; a sweet, sass-mouthed kid with too pretty eyes and far too much desperation and disappointment in his short life. A boy like that was an easy mark for the scum that wandered the city streets after dark.

"Nothing. Maybe we should call the police," he sighed in frustration. Sam was holding the front door for him and he stepped quickly over the threshold, eyes lighting on the baby sleeping on the couch. Sam had her cushioned along one side with throw pillows so that she couldn't roll off, and her arms were thrown wide, lips pursed and sucking at a phantom bottle.

"Jo, I gotta go," Dean said huskily.

"Yeah, okay," Jo murmured, sensing Dean was seconds from falling apart. "How long til Cas is finished with the fire?"

"I don't know. It was a big one." Dean knelt beside the couch and gathered the baby up, startling her awake. He propped the phone between his ear and shoulder. "I'll call you, okay?"

Dani whimpered, rubbing her face with her fists. Her cheeks dimpled when she recognized him and she smiled sleepily. His heart dropped like a rock into his toes. _Baby girl._ He nuzzled her cheek, then her neck, drew in her sweet, familiar scent. He let the phone fall to the floor and concentrated on breathing.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean rested his elbows on the couch, still kneeling, still holding the baby close. He waited for Sam to continue, turning toward the door when he didn't.

He took one look at Sam's face and blanched. "What is it?"

…

Cas jumped from the truck, dodging the broken glass and crumpled concrete, pieces of twisted, discarded metal that littered the ancient parking lot. _Not this warehouse,_ the words screamed through his brain. _Not this one._

Jeff caught him by the arm as he ducked under a hose.

"Hold up there, Cas."

Cas stopped himself just shy of jerking his arm away. He willed his heart to slow to a less frenetic pace. "Who's in? Is the building clear?"

He looked up at the blazing inferno before him, thick smoke billowing from the broken glass windows of the warehouse, sheaths of water spraying uniformly across the flames from the two ladders high overhead.

"No one's in yet," Jeff said calmly. "What's going on with you?" He snapped Cas' oxygen tank into place where it had fallen askew.

Rufus appeared at their side and slapped Jeff on the back. "Guess we won't have to fire off those demolitions next week after all."

Jeff snorted. "Man, and here I was really looking forward to setting those charges too."

"Next one," Rufus said jovially. He peered at Cas, eyes narrowing. "You two all right to go in on the ground floor?"

"Yeah, sure," Cas said gruffly. There was a prickle at the base of his skull, an itch, niggling; it felt like déjà vu. "Let's go."

…

Dean couldn't breathe. There was black smoke, suffocating, thick, and a burning pain so fierce he woke gasping, disoriented. He blinked several times, jerking upright before he realized he must have dozed off on the end of the couch. Dani squirmed lightly against his shoulder in her sleep and he patted her back, drew an unsteady breath.

He heard murmurs from the kitchen; Gabe and Sam.

When he paused in the kitchen door, they both clammed up. "Have we heard anything," he asked, voice roughened with sleep and worry. After Cas' initial text to Sam, to _keep Dean home _due to the location of the fire_,_ they had called the police. The officer who took the missing persons report assured Dean that they'd put out Jake's description, that it was state law to have it recorded in the computer within twelve hours. It had taken all of Dean's willpower not to punch him in his fat mouth when he had callously told them to go to bed, Jake would probably turn up in a day or two.

Dean was shocked he had actually fallen asleep. It was probably a defense mechanism, the worry tearing at his mind, churning the acid in his gut. Dani demanded that her needs be met, though, to be fed and diapered, to be held and loved and rocked to sleep. And Dean had willingly complied, needing the simple joy of the baby, singing _Bye Bye Blackbird_ soft and low until her breathing evened into the softest angel whispers of air on his cheek.

Sam exchanged a glance with Gabe and then shook his head silently in response to Dean's question. Dean was surprised to see him lean into Gabe's touch, the shorter man's hand at the small of his back, rubbing soothing circles.

Gabe's face was serious. "It's definitely the same warehouse. Cas was going in with a crew just a few minutes ago to make sure the building was clear. We won't get another word until they're back out on the ground."

"Then I'm going." Dean moved to pass the baby to Sam and Gabe held his arms out instead.

"Let me have her. I'll take her to Ellen's and meet you two there."

"No, wait," Sam protested, stepping between them. "Cas asked us to wait here. He can't do his job if he's worried about you, Dean." His voice softened. "If Jake's there, Cas will find him. But he's probably nowhere near that fire. He's probably holed up in some girl's bedroom, hiding under her waterbed."

Dean snorted in spite of himself, a tired grin pulling at his lips. _He_ had hid for three days under '_some girl's waterbed'_ once upon a time when he was pissed at Bobby for enforcing a completely unreasonable curfew. "Yeah, probably," he said sadly. He passed the sleeping baby to Gabe. "Take her to Ellen's, or follow me, I don't care." He met Sam's eyes. "But I'm going."

…

Jake eyed the old drunk, the stench of his unwashed body gag inducing. The smoke had thickened, and the black whorls filtered down the deep stairwell, burning his eyes.

"You fucking asshole!" he shouted in frustration. "You're going to kill us both!" He darted for the stairs again, thinking if he could _just get around him,_ but the old man swung the long post of burning wood to block him, the flames missing Jake's torn and bleeding arm by mere inches. He had caught Jake off guard earlier, surprising the boy as he stood atop the dark stairwell, lost in thought and trying to say goodbye to a past that still had the power to haunt him. By the time Jake noted the shadowing looming in his peripheral vision, the man had tossed him down the stairs.

When Jake woke some time later, his head ached, his lip was split, and there was blood dripping down his arm from a six-inch gash where he had apparently slid off the steps and crashed into a pile of metal. He was lucky had hadn't fallen on the other side; that wall was the burning heart of the fire that threatened to bring the warehouse down over their very heads. A single match had been lit to ward off the chill, scraps of wood thrust on it to feed the flames, until now it blazed out of control, consuming the abandoned building.

Jake torn a strip off of the hem of his t-shirt and bound the wound on his arm, stomach roiling with nausea and pain, eyes wary as they watched the mad man who danced side to side, hopping from one foot to the other in a grotesquely happy jig.

He was filthy, his bare feet black and crusted, his many layers of mismatched clothing hanging from his tall, thin frame. He had mumbled in what Jake recognized as Spanish at first, then English with a thick German accent, before sinking to his knees and reciting a line Jake thought might be from _Oliver Twist. _

He was clearly insane.

He had filched all of Jake's belongings while he was unconscious, including his cell phone and his hoodie, and tossed them into the fire. And now he stood guard, between Jake and the only escape.

"Cas is so going to kick your ass," Jake muttered, wincing when he stepped on something sharp and pointy in the grime of the floor. His shoes and socks were missing. He almost smiled in relief when he saw the telltale whirl of a fire engine's light, casting spinning reels of red and blue high above them.

This hiss and spit of water hitting the fire overhead startled the homeless man and he lunged at Jake, perhaps in a misguided attempt to shield him from harm, and Jake fell back, head cracking against the concrete with a hard _thwhack. _He saw stars, the edges of his vision darkening, and he shrank into the hard floor, scooting away from the foul wetness of the man's breath as it washed over his nose and mouth.

"No todas hermosuras enamoran, que algunas alegran la vista, y no rinden la voluntad," the man whispered urgently, grabbing Jake's shoulders and shaking them.

"Get off of me," Jake ground out between his teeth, shoving with all the strength he had left. They rolled, and Jake scrambled to his feet, hissing in pain when he stepped on the hot sparks on the floor, leftovers from the flaming torch having rolled a half semi-circle away.

"Jake!"

The muffled voice was music, pure and sweet, and when the figure at the top of the stairs appeared, it was silhouetted by the bright shine of the floodlights behind him, casting a halo around the firefighter's helmet. As far as Jake was concerned, it might as well have been an angel. He dodged the man's weak grab at his ankle and had made it halfway up the stairs by the time Cas had made it halfway down.

Cas crushed the boy to his chest, flashlight falling, rolling to the edge of the tread before dropping to the floor below with a soft _thud_. He held him tight for only a few seconds, wishing he didn't have to let go, relief swamping him, making him lightheaded. He pulled back and grabbed the boy's head, big, gloved hands covering his ears. "What the fuck were you thinking?" he asked, throat too tight.

Jake laughed, so desperately glad to see him he dropped all guard and pretense, the sound ringing out over the fire, a youthful joy Cas had never heard him produce before.

"I wasn't. I'm a moron."

Cas chuckled, mask flopping against his neck. "Yes. You are." He glanced down, frowning at Jake's bare feet, taking in the torn shirt and hastily bandaged arm. "I'm not going to say all the things I need to, since most of them require yelling and I'm trying to conserve oxygen. _And_ we need to get out of here." He quirked an eyebrow. "You might have noticed this building's on fire."

"Smartass," Jake muttered, still grinning, but he let Cas push him up the stairs. He stopped two steps from the top when a loud crash to the left indicated the floor was caving in, falling to the basement level below. "Cas."

"Go, Jake, we need to hurry." Cas urged him forward, signaling to Jeff who threw him a thumbs up.

"Cas, there's a man down there, a homeless guy. He fell." Jake swallowed, mouth working.

Cas glanced back down; they had minutes maybe before this whole floor collapsed. He pushed Jake forward, signaling to Jeff. "Run. I'll get him." He took the steps two, three at a time, disappearing into the shadows.

"Cas!" Jake moved to follow, but Jeff caught him around the waist and dragged him across the warehouse floor, grunting when the boy elbowed him in the ribs before resorting to manhandling him through the door and into the parking lot. Jake fell forward, grabbing his knees, choking on the thick smoke that had filled the first floor, and a pair of hands pulled him to safety. Cool fingertips grazed his cheeks as they slid an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.

"Cas," he moaned again, trying to sit up when two navy-clad attendants lifted him onto a stretcher.

"Sit tight, kid. Novak'll be right out. He's the best."

The EMT ruffled Jake's hair, then helped him sit when he refused to lie down. After he had checked Jake's vitals and grunted in satisfaction, he tapped the mask. "Think you can handle a drink of water?"

Jake nodded, drinking deeply from a cold bottle when it was offered. A paramedic appeared and the EMT stepped aside. The medic shone a light in Jake's eyes, once, twice, gingerly rubbing a gloved hand over the knot on the back of his head.

"Had a fall, did you son?"

"Yeah." Jake's voice was hoarse, as though he'd been screaming for hours and he frowned.

"It's the smoke," the medic murmured, listening intently to his stethoscope. He nodded to the EMT who replaced the mask over Jake's face. "Just a little more, kiddo. You got quite a mouthful."

"Pull back!"

The warning shout came just as the entire left side of the warehouse caved in on itself with a groan. Jake watched in horror as the opening where Jeff had pulled him to safety disappeared behind the fall of masonry and sheet metal, the deep, charcoal smoke mingling with the sandy grey thrown up in the dust of the broken concrete.

The paramedic threw himself on top of Jake and they both froze, holding their breath, until the only audible sounds were the chunks of debris as they rolled across the parking lot. Then Jake was shoving out from under him, ripping the mask from his face, and launching himself from the stretcher.

He might have screamed Cas' name, but his voice was gone, failing him, and he fell to his knees, the bite of the asphalt tearing the flesh from his palms, the pain nothing compared the cold hard knot of fear in his chest.

…

Cas' mind wasn't on the fire or the rescue as he raced down the steps, and he gave himself a mental shake. This was how people got killed. Distraction served as the chief and most troubling disruption in a firefighter's instinct. He had to get his head in the game. Jake was okay, he was safe. _I need to call Dean_, he thought, as he squinted into the darkness, trying to pick out something shaped like a body. The flames from a makeshift firepit at the side of the stairs licked up the walls, but they were weak, losing fuel. It had already burned through the ceiling; this was probably the source of the upstairs blaze.

The floor groaned again and Cas ducked under the stairs to grab his flashlight, urgency in his steps as he swung the light in a wide arc.

He frowned when he spotted the burnt remains of a hoodie, recognizing it as Jake's. He ground his teeth together and turned in a circle, wincing at a loud crack overhead as a support beam gave way. His finely honed instincts made him duck more than any visible threat; nonetheless, that split second movement toward the stairwell was just enough momentum for the tall figure lunging out of the shadows to push Cas underneath.

And then the entire building came down.

…

When the building fell, it shook the ground under the impala. Dean was out of the driver's side and racing across the parking lot before Sam could stop him.

A line of rescue workers and police halted him at the edge of the emergency response vehicles. The dust cloud clung to the cold night air, covering them all in a fine layer of silt and soot. Dean's eyes raced frantically over every yellow-clad body, searching for the telltale cut of shoulder, the beloved outline of a dark head. When his gaze landed on the boy being led to an ambulance, he broke under the arm of the nearest police officer, leaving Sam to give explanation.

Jake flinched when he saw Dean, mere seconds before the man wrapped him up in a bear hug, the second of Jake's long night. Maybe the second of his life, he thought miserably, and he squeezed his eyes tight, burying his face in Dean's warm chest.

"Goddammit, Jake," Dean breathed against his hair and the boy huffed, a laugh maybe, or a sob, warm and moist through his white dress shirt. Somewhere during the night Dean had made it out of the waistcoat, and had never put the jacket back on, but he still wore the rest. He glanced looked down at the filthy, soot covered boy burrowed into his chest; both trouser and shirt were going to have a hefty dry cleaning bill.

Dean hugged the boy tighter. It was worth it.

"What were you thinking?" he murmured.

Jake smiled a watery smile. "Cas said the same thing." He hiccupped, panic in his eyes. "Dean. Cas—"

And Dean knew; Cas was in the building.

Of course, he had really known from the first rumble that rippled across the ground as the walls fell.

His fingers gripped the boy's shoulders too tight and Jake winced. Dean relaxed his grip and looked him firmly in the eye. "He'll be okay."

"It's my fault," Jake managed, voice still raspy and pained. "I sent him back for a crazy ass tramp, a bum! And he went!" He grabbed Dean's shirt in two desperate fists. "Why would he do that?"

Dean pulled him close again, chin resting on the boy's dark head, rubbing his back as he murmured, "Because it's Cas."

"Dean." Sam laid a hand on his shoulder, bending over to peer at the dirty bandage on Jake's arm. "Dean, let me look at him. The EMT said he was pretty banged up."

Dean let the boy go reluctantly and Sam led him to an ambulance, sitting beside him in the back and checking over his injuries. Dean saw Rufus at the edge of the caravan of vehicles, setting up a perimeter, bullhorn in hand.

"Rufus!"

Rufus sighed, lowering the horn. "I don't have time right now, Dean. I have a man down."

"Where is he? Is he alive?" Dean had to be in shock; there was no way he had just uttered those words without an ounce of tremor in his voice. His heart essentially stopped while he waited for Rufus' answer.

"Basement level. And yes. We think he's alive. Someone's tapping like hell on a pipe, but we're not getting any vocalization. He's under a couple of walls, Dean," Rufus said, squeezing his shoulder. "But we'll get him."

All of the air rushed from his lungs and Dean staggered, grabbing the nearest car hood for balance, just to stay upright. "Thank you," he breathed.

"Stay back, son. Let us do our job."

Then Dean was pushed behind the police tape, but Sam walked Jake over to him, so it was all right. The teen had a fresh, clean bandage on his arm and his face had been washed. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he'd been crying, and Dean slung an arm gently over the boy's shoulders. "They're getting him now, Jake. They've got him."

Jake nodded; he'd already heard. The paramedic had let him and Sam know. Jake wondered if they would have said anything at all if Cas hadn't survived. He wondered what this night would become if they lost him yet. He started to shake.

"He's going into shock," Sam murmured, taking a folded blanket out from under his arm and wrapping it around Jake's shoulders.

"Jake? Jake," Dean said sternly, turning the boy toward him. He gave him a little shake. "He's coming out. You hear me?"

Jake nodded again, dazed. "Dean—"

"No," Dean said forcefully. "He'll be out any minute. Now you go on up to the car. Take care of your sister." He gentled his voice when he saw Jake's eyes begin to clear. The boy scanned the parking lot, falling on the impala and Gabe's car parked next to it. Cas' brother lifted his hand in a wave, then wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the cold.

"Okay, Dean." Jake took an unsteady step back and Sam caught his arm.

"I'll walk you buddy."

Dean shot his brother a look of gratitude. Jake needed to go to the hospital, but he knew the boy would never forgive him if he made him leave before they had Cas out of the building. He waited until his brother and the boy were nearly to the car before turning to watch the newly arrived rescue team prepare their equipment. The collapse had snuffed out the last dregs of the fire, and the firefighters now worked to eliminate any dangerous hot spots, but several stood in groups near the perimeter. Waiting.

The team moved as one, synchronized, as they disappeared into the dust cloud that still hung thick in the air where the building used to stand, and Dean lifted his eyes to the stars, bright and twinkling overhead. For the first time since the night his parents died, he prayed.

…


	24. Chapter 24

Cas had read a story once, about a boy orphan, a foundling, who had been secretly raised by a poor miller and his wife after the King had ordered the infant's death. When the boy grew up, he undertook a series of quests in which he would ultimately have to face the devil in order to save his new bride.

When the boy found the doorway to hell, he walked through it.

So did Castiel.

…

There was dark first. And a deafening silence. Then there was the choking sensation of smoke and dust, particles so thick Cas could feel them coating his teeth and tongue when he gasped, greedily sucking air. His ears began to ring.

Next, pain, excruciating. He must have blacked out for a moment because when he blinked his eyes open again, he thought he could see light above him as the thick haze of concrete dust that hung suspended in the air began to clear. He coughed and nearly passed out, white hot pain shooting through his left side; a rib probably, maybe more than one. He'd be lucky if it were only one.

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe, the crushing weight from a chunk of wall, or a piece of the first floor, pinning him flat. He fought a wave of panic, followed quickly by rolling nausea. _I can breathe_, he told himself, lips moving silently. He could breathe, or he would already be dead.

And he wasn't dead, not yet.

He concentrated on moving the air through his nose, shallow, not too deep lest the pain lance swiftly through him; he couldn't afford to cry out, didn't know if he physically could. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he realized how lucky he was that his head had escaped relatively unscathed, although he could feel the slow ooze of blood from a wound above his temple as it trickled down the side of his face and into his ear.

He could move one arm, his right one, but not his left. It was trapped, along with his legs and most of his hips, between a piece of the stairwell and the jagged shard of concrete slab flooring, now buckled at an angle underneath him. Cas remembered the fairytale, his last, semi-delirious thought before passing out again, _I've found it: the gate to hell. _

He woke choking, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth; his nose must have bled. He turned his head and spat, too weak to clear more than his shoulder, but at least he still had one good arm and could drag his grimy glove across his mouth. He grimaced in pain when the motion pulled at his side, but breathing seemed easier now. And it felt as though he had more range of motion, too.

He blinked rapidly when he heard something overhead, wished like hell he could see better. There was movement, rescuers or firefighters. He realized belatedly that he could no longer hear the hiss and pop of flames, nor the whoosh of the water as it fell from a high-pressure hose.

He slid his free hand along the narrow width of floor beside his hip and thigh, the only part of him not covered in rock and debris. Unbelievably, his fingers closed round the butt of his flashlight and he held back a laugh, eyes watering when his sharp inhale was like a knife in his chest.

He could make out the remains of the stairs, the twisted metal casings that had once held concrete treads still recognizable. Cas realized the homeless man, whether intentionally or not, had probably saved his life. The twisted bulk of the stairwell had largely protected him from the brunt of the first floor falling on top of them.

Even better, one narrow shard of metal casing was within easy reach. Cas began to tap against it with the flashlight, closing his eyes when the sound rang out, sharp and sweet and clear. _I'm here,_ he thought. _Dean. I'm here._

_…_

Lucifer didn't see Sam swing until it was too late. The fist connected with his mouth, splitting his lip, and blood squirted across face and down his shirt in a spray of droplets. He fell on his ass on the asphalt, dazed, cursing as he pressed his fingers to his mouth to staunch the bleeding. "Sonofoa_bitch_!"

"Sam," Gabe said quietly, laying a steady palm to his chest.

Sam took a ragged breath and shook his hand. "Fuck. That hurt."

Gabe chuckled and gingerly cradled the sore fist, feathering a thumb over the red knuckles. "That was really stupid, you know."

Sam glanced in the back of the impala, where Jake was sitting under the blanket, arm thrown over Dani's carseat. The baby slept peacefully, unaware, but the boy's eyes were wide. Sam nodded to him, once, and turned to offer his aching hand to Lucifer.

He and Gabe wore identical smirks when Lucifer flinched.

The eldest Goodwin took it grudgingly, still clutching his chin. "Asshole. It wasn't my fault he was eavesdropping—"

"Lucifer," Sam said, tone brooking no argument. "For once in your fucking life. Shut. Up."

Lucifer appraised the two men standing before him, his younger brother with a protective arm around Sam's waist, _Sam_ leaning into it like it was as natural as breathing. "Fair enough," he shrugged. "Any news?"

A local television station van pulled into the lot and there was a brief flurry of activity as the cameras were set up and the anchor made last minute touchups to her hair and makeup in the mirror on the passenger door. Sam noted the way Jake shrank into the shadows of the interior of the car and he put a finger to his lips, giving the kid a wink.

In the distance, the portion of rubble that they believed lay on top of Cas was being excavated, agonizingly slow, piece by heavy piece. Generator noise whirred across the night as they powered the flood lamps, bright light trained on the area of concern. A crowd had gathered, slowly at first and then with more momentum, until Sam could barely see Dean where he was stationed at the edge of the police tape.

A second news van pulled in and he cocked a brow at Gabe. His lips parted to say he was going down to check on Dean when a murmur rose through the crowd, and the three men stiffened.

"Wait here," Sam said sternly. "Keep Jake _here_."

"Sam!"

Sam turned back and Gabe dragged his face down to his level, kissing him fiercely. "Don't do anything stupidly heroic."

Sam grinned and rubbed a thumb across Gabe's chin; he had too much stubble, having refused to shave since school let out for Christmas break. "Take care of our niece and nephew. I'll be back."

Lucifer leaned against the impala's door and pulled his coat tighter around him, gazing somewhat mournfully at the tall, lanky, gorgeous figure of one Sam Winchester as he walked away. Literally and figuratively. He dabbed at the cut on his lip with a handkerchief. "If I go down there to help out, is one of you going to kick my ass?"

"Yes," Gabe said simply, watching Sam disappear in the throng of people. "The best brother won." His smile was smug when he held out a fist and Lucifer grudgingly bumped it. "_Finally._"

…

When Sam pushed his way to the front of the crowd, Dean was arguing with the cop standing guard.

"Come _on,_ Garth. Let me through."

"No, Dean. Stand down."

"I'm not a cop!" Dean shouted in frustration. "That's _Cas,_ in there Garth. Cas. Father of my children. Let. Me. Through." The words were forced through his teeth.

Dean made an imposing figure, Sam mused, but Garth stood his ground. "No. Unless Rufus, or hell, God himself beams down right _fucking_ in front of me, demanding that the one and only Dean Winchester be allowed under the police barrier, then you stay on _that_ side of the tape, buckaroo."

"Dean?" Sam laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. "What's happening?"

"They found someone. They're taking down a stretcher," Dean said grimly, nodding toward the paramedics, who were indeed preparing a backboard and accompanying supplies. "And this _asshole_ won't let me through."

"I'll go," Sam said, ducking under the tape.

Garth blinked when Sam stretched to his full height beside him. The three of them had gone to school together from the time Garth and Sam were in second grade, but that didn't mean he was going to let the Winchester brothers undermine his authority. "Now, Sam, dammit." He was forced to pause when Sam slapped a hand across his mouth.

"Garth. I'm a doctor. Now _stand down_."

Garth rolled his eyes but gave a curt nod.

Dean's voice when he spoke was more anguished than Sam had ever heard it, or ever wanted to hear again. "You bring him out, Sammy."

"I will, Dean." Sam grabbed him in a hard hug over the stretch of yellow plastic ribbon, then gripped Garth's hand before he turned to catch up to the paramedics.

…

The brief moments Cas was conscious, he thought it was probably for the best that he was _unconscious_ for the bulk of his rescue and removal from the remains of the warehouse. The orange stretcher had been lowered into the basement once a hole had been cleared, followed by two rescue workers who rappelled into the space, dropping lightly to their feet beside where he lay pinned.

He didn't remember much beyond that until, oddly, Sam's voice was in his ear, urging him to open his eyes.

"Hang in there, Cas, you hear me?"

Sam's face was blurred through his one good eye, but his voice was strong and firm and Cas tried to nod.

"Dean," he managed to rasp.

"He's fine, worried," Sam reassured him. He grinned, white teeth flashing in his strained face, dirty with soot and grime. "Man he's going to be glad to see you." Sam swallowed hard, his throat too tight.

The rescue team carrying him jostled the stretcher as they lifted him high over a pile of debris, and Cas winced. "Chest," he whispered. It was getting harder to breathe.

"Your left lung is collapsed," Sam said. He held an IV bag overhead and gently grasped Cas' shoulder. "And you probably cracked some ribs, and you definitely broke your left wrist. No crazy acrobatics for you for a while."

Cas managed a brief grin, lightheaded and dizzy. "Dean will be," he gasped when the cot shifted. "Disappointed," he managed.

Sam laughed softly. "TMI, Cas. TMI." He squeezed his shoulder again. His eyes searched the crowd, giant strobes lighting the scene as if it were midday and not the middle of the night. He spotted the news vans, camera crews at the ready. A low murmur started in the crowd when they spotted the rescue workers as they topped the worst of the debris.

When they saw the bright orange backboard, a cheer went up, a thundering wave of applause that filled the air, cascading down on the five filthy men minutely picking their way through the destruction.

"You hear that?" Sam smiled at Cas' exhausted face. "That's for you, buddy."

Cas shook his head once. "No," he whispered, good hand waving at the men carrying him. "That's for them."

"It's for all of us, Novak," the firefighter at his head spoke up. "But the next time you jump down a stairwell, don't call me. You hear?"

Cas tried to laugh, ending on a wracking cough and Sam held him steady with a careful hand.

"Easy there, dude. Dean will see _me_ on a stretcher if you choke to death before he gets to see you."

The man in question had been pacing at the edge of the crowd. His head jerked up when the cheer rose through the air and he ducked under the caution tape, pushing past the startled policeman holding the barricade.

"Dean, wait!" But Garth was too late; Dean was already on the move, jogging through the pits and holes gauged in the ground from a parking lot too long unused, carefully avoiding the largest pieces of building and concrete.

When he saw the dark head on the stretcher, he thought he might actually pass out, and paused only long enough to catch his breath, a fist clutched against his sternum before he pushed forward. Sam's huge smile almost brought him to his knees.

"Fuck fuck fuck," he gasped as he squeezed between two paramedics, mindful of their hold on the backboard, eyes drinking in Cas' battered face, his bloody lips lifted incongruously in a grin. "_Goddammit, _Cas."

"Eloquent, Dean," Sam teased, moving the IV tubing so Dean could get closer.

"Shut up," Dean exhaled. He bent over the stretcher, carefully brushing the hair back from Cas' forehead, wincing at the dark purpling bruises and hastily bandaged cut on his temple. "You're an asshole," he said fiercely, dropping a kiss to the dirty skin.

Cas huffed, coughing again, chest rattling. "Thanks, baby." His voice was rough and pained and the sweetest fucking sound Dean had ever heard.

He grinned, eyes squeezing shut against a sharp dampness as they began to move again, keeping one hand on Cas' arm. He was never letting go.

…

Dean waited at the ambulance doors as they lifted Cas' stretcher inside. He smiled when he saw Garth escorting Gabe and Lucifer, Jake and Dani toward him.

"Good job," Garth said to everyone and no one specifically. A second team of rescuers were already picking their way back to the hole to look for the second victim, after Cas told them where he had last seen the man.

Dean took Dani from Jake, carefully covering her head with a blanket against the cold, and pulling the kid to his side in a one-armed hug. "See? I told you."

Jake grinned tiredly. And then let himself wrap an arm around Dean's waist. "Thanks, Dean." He nodded at the taller Winchester. "Sam."

"I didn't do much." Sam reached over to brush the fringe of hair from Jake's eyes. "Put in an IV. Pep talked."

"Jake." The voice from the back of the ambulance was strained, weak.

Dean nodded at the boy and gave him a little push. Sam and an EMT boosted him into the back of the ambulance.

"Cas," Jake said, mouth working as he stared down at the bruised and dirty face. His eyes were too wet and his cheeks were flushed with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. "You're an idiot."

Cas' eyes widened in surprise before he clutched a hand to his chest, grinning, trying desperately not to laugh. "Just like your father," he whispered, eyes shining. He held out a hand and Jake took it, squeezing hard. "You be good. I'll be home for Christmas."

"Promise?" Jake flushed, knowing he sounded about five years old and not giving even a single damn.

"Promise." Cas' eyes fluttered closed and the EMT gently moved Jake toward the door.

"Packing him up, kid. You better hop out."

Dean passed Dani to Gabe and climbed into the back of the ambulance. "Jake, Sam is going to drive you to the hospital, get you looked over. I'll meet you there."

"I'm fine."

Dean pointed a finger at him. "No arguments. Like, no arguments _for the next two years,_ no arguments."

Jake grinned. "Whatever."

The ambulance doors closed on Dean's response. The EMT on the ground winked at Jake. "You should take advantage of that soft spot, kid. If I were you, I'd ask for something big from Santa this year."

Jake smiled at Dani, asleep in Gabe's arms, and at Sam, the impala's car keys in hand to drive him to the hospital. "I've already got everything I want."

…

Dean had fallen asleep in the hard-backed chair beside Cas' bed, legs stretched out, ankles crossed. Cas watched him sleep, worry lines still etched in his handsome face. He was clean, at least, Cas mused. Sam or Gabe must have brought him a change of clothes, so he could shower while Cas was having his wrist set. He lifted the heavy cast, frowning. Life was going to be a little less amusing for a while with that thing attached to his arm.

"Hey," Dean whispered, blinking sleepily. "You okay?"

Cas lowered the cast gingerly to the bed and smiled. "Hey. Are _you_ okay? You look like crap."

Dean stood and stretched, back popping noisily. He leaned over the head of the bed to kiss the pristine, white bandage. He closed his eyes, breathing deep. "Yeah, well you look like you just had a building fall on you," he joked.

"Ha ha." Cas ran the fingers of his good hand down Dean's side.

Dean exhaled shakily. "And here this whole time I thought it was going to be a fire," he murmured against Cas' temple, lingering fear unmistakable in his eyes when he lifted his head.

Cas gripped his waist. "And I thought it was going to be tits and ass," he teased.

"Shut up," Dean huffed, straightening with a grin. "_No_ one's got an ass better than yours."

He gently positioned Cas' cast across his belly, toying with his hand and brushing his thumb across his bare ring finger. Dean leaned up to kiss him softly.

"I tried to make a grand gesture, " he said, easing back when Cas gasped in pain. "And then you went and threw yourself into a burning building."

"Sorry," Cas chuckled, wincing. "I really did enjoy watching you get all flustered and adorable_._" He smiled when Dean stuck his hand in his front pocket and pulled out the ring. He raised an eyebrow when he kissed it before laying it in Cas' palm. "You're being adorable again."

"Shut up," Dean grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "They gave me your personal effects." His eyes twinkled. "Gabe put my name in the box labeled _spouse_ on your admit papers."

Cas chuckled at Dean's gleeful expression and ran his finger over the smooth edge of the ring, turning it to the light so that he could see inside the simple silver band. He squinted; there was an inscription there. He glanced at Dean, who was watching him carefully, waiting. He read the phrase aloud, the Latin words rolling prettily off his tongue, then he read them again, head falling against the pillow as he stared at the ceiling thoughtfully.

Dean squirmed.

"My heart is falling?" Cas finally asked, smile wide and fond. He relaxed his grip on the ring when Dean nudged it from his palm.

Dean pushed the ring back into its rightful place. "My heart fell a long time ago. And you missed a word." Cas made as if to remove the ring again and Dean caught his hand. "No," he said firmly.

Cas snorted lightly and repeated the words, licking his lips and frowning in concentration. "Free," he sighed when he worked out the translation. "My heart is falling free. Dean_._" He reached up to cup Dean's face, pulling him close. "I love you," he said, but Dean swallowed the words in a kiss.

Several minutes later Dean sat back up, a little calmer and a lot aroused. Which was terrible, honestly. His boyfriend (_husband,_ in the eyes of Sioux Falls General_)_ was lying in a hospital bed, beat all to hell, bruised and sore and repeating the Latin phrase in his ear until Dean had to shift his pants to make room for his stupid erection. "You know any more Latin?" he asked innocently.

"Only the inscription on your ring."

Dean's eyebrows hit his hairline. "I have an inscription?" he squeaked, wonderment in his tone. "Mine is in Latin too?"

Cas blinked. "Well, yeah. I thought you knew. Wait." He struggled to sit up, gasping with the effort as Dean helped him into a more comfortable position, holding him down by the shoulder but pressing the button to raise the head of the bed. "So you don't know? You've never read it?"

"I've never taken it off," Dean said quietly.

"Dean." Cas' smile was radiant and in that moment Dean thought he had never in his life seen anything more beautiful. Dark, messy hair standing on end, bright blue eyes sparkling with happiness and love; even the deep, purple bruise that covered most of the left side of his face was beautiful. It was Cas, and he was alive and breathing and smiling at Dean.

Everything was beautiful.

Dean kissed him, tongue pressing inside of his mouth far more gently than earlier, finding its counterpart for a light touch and then retreating.

"You need to take it off now." Cas was still smiling and he tapped the ring on Dean's left hand.

Dean sighed, and let Cas pull the ring over his knuckle, where he mimicked Dean's earlier motions and kissed it before placing it in his palm. His finger felt naked and he barely resisted the urge to push the ring back into place as quickly as possible.

He held it to the light and found the engraving; it sparkled against the matte surface of the ring's interior. _Amor est libero lapsus._

He frowned. "Amor is love, right?"

Cas nodded, grinning. "We're saps. You know that, right? Saps with dangerous access to Google translate."

Dean murmured the Latin, then once more, smiling when Cas' fingers lined his lips, following the motion of his mouth when he spoke the words. He liked the way those blue eyes were sparking hot on his face. He slid the ring back on his finger.

"We're definitely getting a Latin dictionary for the bedroom," Cas murmured. He gripped Dean's chin hard and negotiated the distance carefully until he could rub his mouth against those pretty lips. "Say it again," he whispered. "Into my mouth."

"Amor est libero lapsus." Dean added a little inflection, grinning when Cas moaned lightly, cutting him off and thrusting his tongue in Dean's mouth in a hot, wet kiss. Dean set him back gently when Cas' hand started to roam. "Nope. You just lie back there and look sexy and mussed up."

"Fucker." Cas was breathing heavily, but he settled against the bed, smiling at the way his pulse fluttered furiously in his chest. "Have you worked out the rest of the translation yet?"

Dean rubbed his chin; Cas' stubble had left a bit of a burn and it stung. It was the best kind of twinge though; a reminder of hot kisses and handsome jawlines. He murmured the phrase again, eyes widening as he recognized another word. He had spent a lot of time on that damn translation site. He laughed and twisted the ring off to peer at the inscription.

Cas grinned. "I thought you weren't ever taking it off again."

"Last time," Dean retorted, mouth moving as he read the words to himself, translating in his head. _Love is a free fall._ What were the odds, Dean wondered. What were the chances that they would both choose phrasing so close and probably identically butchered.

"You were worse, you know," Cas interrupted his reverie.

Dean slipped the ring back on his hand. _Now_ he was never removing it again. "Worse than what?" He bent over at the waist and pulled off a boot. Then the other. He stood and stripped off his overshirt, tossing it to the side chair.

"What are you up to," Cas grinned.

"Scoot over."

Dean negotiated the narrow hospital bed, repositioning Cas' sore body until there was enough room for Dean too, until they were pressed against each other, one long line of perfectly matched warmth. He rested his hand low on Cas' hip and nuzzled his ear.

"Worse than what?" he asked again.

Cas relaxed into Dean's side. His heart ached with the weight of this moment, and all the moments like it, and how close they had come to never having this again.

"Worse than jumping out of a plane my first time." He rubbed his temple against Dean's forehead, smiling when lips brushed his cheek. "You were a faulty chute, Winchester."

"Hey," Dean protested, nibbling on his jaw, unable to resist pressing as many soft kisses as possible along the rough stubble, dragging his mouth lightly across it and enjoying the burn. "I resent that. I caught you, didn't I?" He squeezed Cas' waist.

"Yeah, you caught me," Cas sighed, eyes drifting closed. "Amor est libero lapsus," he murmured on a yawn.

"Love is a free fall," Dean whispered as he watched those deep blue eyes disappear behind dark lashes. He kissed Cas' cheek and rested his head on their shared pillow. He wasn't tired, but that was okay. He was going to lie here beside Cas, the same way he planned to lay beside him tomorrow, the next day, and every day after that, for the rest of his life. At times he expected there would be a tiny girl sleeping between them; and somehow they had to carve out space in their lives and home for a fifteen-year-old boy as well, but Dean was without fear, without worry, and for once in his life completely at peace.

They had both survived the fall.

No parachute necessary.

…


	25. Epilogue

"So this girl, she got a name?" Dean flicked off the light switch, throwing the room into darkness save for the Christmas tree lights. They blinked in a random pattern, filling the room with a colorful glow.

Jake had requested color lights for the tree earlier in the week, and Dean had lavishly applied them to the blue spruce's branches once they had gotten home from the tree farm. Now the whole house was filled with the rich scent of evergreen.

Dean sat on the floor beside the boy and took the baby from his lap to lay her on her back under the lowest branches of the tree. He followed her to the carpet and scooted in beside her, motioning for Jake to join them.

Jake sighed and lay down on the other side of Dani, sliding until his head was even with Dean's. Dani studied him, then Dean, her face swiveling between the two. She had her feet in the air, toes clasped tightly in her fists, and she plucked at the white lace that lined the seam of her red footie pajamas. This pair had an embroidered Christmas wreath on the yoke, with more white lace edging a peter-pan collar.

Dean _might_ have purchased enough Christmas footie pajamas that she had worn a different pair every night this week.

"What are we looking at again?" Jake asked, ignoring Dean's earlier question about the girl. Her name was Amber, but damn if he was going to tell Dean that.

"The lights," Dean said waving his hands at the boughs hanging six inches from their faces.

"I could have looked at the lights from my nice comfy seat on the couch too, you know."

"It's not the same," Dean murmured, grinning when the baby blew a raspberry. He maneuvered her a little farther under the branches so that her head was even with his and Jake's. "Sam and I used to do this at night when Bobby was asleep, sneak out of bed and turn on the tree lights, lay underneath and try to guess what was in our presents."

"They didn't have video games or the internet back in the stone ages, huh?"

"Shut up."

Dani blew another raspberry and kicked her feet excitedly before rolling over to her belly.

"Hey there, baby girl," Dean whispered, patting her back.

Dani pushed against the floor like she wanted to get on all fours and Jake laughed.

"You are in big trouble when she's mobile."

"I think what you mean to say is _we_ are in big trouble," Dean corrected.

They watched the lights flicker prettily through the sharp green of the needles.

"It is nice, I guess," Jake admitted grudgingly. He tucked an arm behind his head and crossed his feet. "What's in my big present?"

"Oh no," Dean shook his head. "Not even."

"And what's this?" Cas' voice was tired and more than a little strained as he leaned against the living room doorway.

"You should be in bed," Dean and Jake said at the same time.

"Jinx!" Jake beat Dean to the punchline with a grin.

"But apparently I'm missing a tradition in the making." He walked gingerly toward the sofa, cast held close to his left side, movements slow. Dean scooted out from under the tree and went to help him lay back against the couch cushions.

"You should be in bed," he repeated in a soft voice, brushing his lips across Cas', tucking a pillow under his cast.

"You should have told me we were going to wait up for Santa."

Dean smiled and kissed him again, glancing at the clock. "That's right," he grinned over his shoulder. Jake was still sprawled with his head under the tree branches, the baby now sitting on his torso. "Santa won't come if little boys and girls are awake."

Jake snorted. "I'm not tired."

Dani agreed, babbling and batting at his chest. She almost nabbed a low-hanging ornament and Jake shifted her lower on his stomach.

"Did you hear that? She just said Dada," Dean said proudly, positioning himself behind Cas on the couch, easing the other man against his chest.

"Are you high? That was obviously Bubba." Jake caught Dani before she toppled off onto the floor.

"Whatever," Dean argued. "And don't drop my baby."

A pair of headlights swung into the drive.

"That must be Santa, now!" Dean joked.

Jake rolled out from under the tree and stood, taking the baby with him. When he peered out of the sidelights, he smirked. "Santa drives a big red Dodge."

Sam kicked his feet against the stoop when Jake swung open the door, knocking snow onto the hardwood entry.

"Hey," Jake exclaimed. "Snow!"

"A white Christmas," Cas murmured. "That's nice."

"I couldn't sleep," Gabe announced coming in behind Sam with a shudder. "Damn, it's cold. Hey baby girl." He kissed Dani's cheek and she scrunched up her nose.

"She hates that god-awful beard," Sam muttered, patting the baby's sweet cheek and shutting the door on the winter chill. "So do I," he said pointedly.

"No you don't," Gabe grinned. He looked around the room and waved a finger over his head. "Why are all the lights out?"

"The tree," Sam said happily, shucking his coat and crawling under the tree.

Dean chuckled. This was a good night. "Hey, someone should text Joanna Beth. She'll be pissed if she misses Christmas."

A second set of lights swung into the drive.

"Nevermind," Dean said cheerfully.

Ash pushed through the living room door with a flourish. "Merry Christmas!"

Bobby shoved him out of the way. "It's not Christmas yet, dumbass. We still have four minutes."

"I like how ladies are first in this family," Jo complained, shutting the door behind she and Ellen and unwrapping the scarf from her neck. "Oh, and _thanks_ for holding the door, Ash-hole."

"Anytime, Harv—" Ash's response was cut off with a mouthful of wool scarf.

"Why aren't you lying down?" Sam asked Cas after Jo and Ash booted him out from under the tree. He laid the back of his hand against his forehead. "How's your breathing? Any pain? Shortness of breath?"

"Only when I kiss him," Dean quipped. "And get off of him, Jesus. You had him for more than two days."

Sam straightened with a sigh. "And I should have kept him for a couple more." He pointed a warning finger at Cas. "You're pale. You should be in bed."

"I wish everyone would stop saying that." Cas grabbed Sam's finger and squeezed. "I'll go to bed in a while. It's Dani's first Christmas."

"And now, it technically _is,_" Ellen said softly, pointing at the clock. Midnight. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas!"

"Well_,_ since we're all here, maybe we should open presents?" Jake asked innocently.

Dean chuckled. "Snake charmer." He scooted out from under Cas, propping a pillow behind him to support his back. "Save my spot," he winked.

He shoved Jake aside and he and Jo started handing out presents.

"But it's the middle of the night!" Jake exclaimed, shocked at this unexpected turn of events.

Jo laughed. "This was your idea, kid."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually go for it. You people are crazy. Doesn't social services interview prospective families anymore?"

"Cas bribed her with peach pie," Gabe offered with a shrug.

"Look at it this way," Sam said. "You can have Christmas twice. Once now, and then again at Ellen's later when we have Christmas dinner."

The room devolved into a flying stream of laughing conversation, colorful ribbon and crumpled paper printed with candy canes and Santa Claus.

"Hey grandpa, stinky diaper, 12 o'clock!"

"Pass," Bobby said drily.

"I'll take her, precious angel," Ellen cooed, reaching for the baby. When she had finished, Dani was yawning, blinking sleepily. "You want me to go put her down, Dean?"

"Nah, let me set up the pack and play. I don't want her to miss anything."

While Dean unfolded the playpen, everyone took turns saying goodnight to the sleepy girl. Cas was last, and Dean held most of her weight, a hand under her freshly diapered bottom. Cas nuzzled the baby's head and whispered, "Merry Christmas, ladybug."

Dani released a deep sigh when Dean laid her in the playpen, turning onto her side and closing her eyes. Dean draped a receiving blanket over her legs, amused at how promptly she fell asleep.

"Dean! I'm hungry. Make me a sandwich. Are you watching Dani sleep again? That's so creepy."

Out of habit, Dean's hand came up to flip Jake off but he stopped at Cas' stern glance.

"Dean."

"He started it," Dean complained, jabbing a less offensive finger in Jake's direction. "How about _you_ make _me_ a sandwich for a change. Respect your elders."

"_I'll_ make sandwiches," Ellen cut in, climbing over the multiple pairs of legs on the living room floor. She stopped at the edge of the couch to kiss Cas' cheek. "How are you feeling?"

Cas tipped his head back to give her a tired wink. "I'm perfect."

"What is this? Dudes, did you just give me frilly pink lingerie?" Ash's voice was a mixture of skepticism and humor.

"Whoops. That was supposed to be for Gabe," Dean called from where he was kneeling behind the tree, digging out the rest of the presents.

"Dean!"

Dean grinned to himself, imagining Sam's red face.

"Shh, Sam. We don't throw people's gifts back in their face. That would be rude," Gabe said soothingly. "Now hand it over, Ash."

"No way. Cardinal rule of present opening, you open it, you get to keep it."

"Ash! Give me those panties!"

"Not on your life, home skillet."

"Dean! Your kid just asked me out on a date." Jo shoved a bright red bow in Jake's mouth.

"There's no accounting for taste, Jo. What do you want me to do?" Dean smirked, handing her a jovially wrapped gift.

"Wiseass."

"Harpy." He narrowly avoided Jo's right hook.

He was laughing too hard to see the foot she stuck between his sock-clad feet, bringing him to his knees in the middle of the floor.

"Walk much?" She snorted, kicking him once in the middle of his butt for good measure.

"You're going down, Harvelle," Dean growled turning and grabbing a slim ankle.

"Dean! Wait!" Jo laughed, squirming and kicking, a bony elbow connecting with Dean's stomach.

Dean caught one wrist in a fist and pinned it to her chest, grunting when a knee knocked too close to his kidney. "Hold still, Jo, so I can spank your ass."

"I'd like to see you try," Jo managed between gasps.

"Right knee, Jo," Sam called.

"Don't help!" Dean laughed as he narrowly missed being kneed in the groin. He squeezed her wrist harder. "No ball sacks, Joanna Beth. You always were a dirty fighter," he muttered.

Jo shocked him when she wrapped her thighs around his waist and Dean's mouth fell open. She took advantage of his distraction and flipped him onto his back. "Ha!"

"That was cheating," he sputtered.

Jake loomed over his head. "You want me to tag in?" He gave Jo a saucy wink.

"Ugh," Jo complained in mock disgust, shoving the boy in the shoulder.

"Children." Bobby's stern voice carried over the happy sounds of the living room and everyone turned to the kitchen door, where he stood next to Ellen.

Jo bent over and smacked a sloppy kiss to Dean's lips. "You're gonna get it now."

Dean threw her off his chest with a smug look. "I wouldn't fall asleep tonight if I were you, Jo. Cas has a glint in his eye."

"Aw, fuck," she moaned, frowning in Cas' direction. "I keep forgetting about you."

"I have something to say," Bobby said loudly, clearing his throat.

Everyone paused, waiting.

Ellen carried a tray of sandwiches into the living room and set them on the coffee table. She smacked Gabe's hand when he reached for one.

"Dean, Cas, I'd like to give you your present now, if that's okay," Bobby said gruffly.

Dean sat up on his knees, using Jo's head as leverage to climb to his feet. He stepped over a pile of wrapping paper to sit beside Cas on the couch. "You have it on you? So I'm guessing it isn't a million dollars," he teased. He worked an arm behind Cas' back, frowning when he winced in pain. "You need to go to bed," he whispered.

"No, I don't," Cas whispered back.

Dean kissed his cheek.

"Are you two done slobbering so I can do this?" Bobby asked in disgust.

Dean grinned. "A building fell on him, Bobby. I have a lifetime free pass to slobber. Get used to it."

"Whatever," Bobby muttered, rolling his eyes. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He hesitated before holding them out above their heads, the ring hooked over his index finger.

"That better be my car," Jake said from his perch on the floor.

"You haven't changed enough drip pans yet, kid," Bobby threw back.

Dean frowned, taking the keys. They weren't car keys. They were old-fashioned. They looked like… "Bobby," he exhaled softly. "Are these the keys to your mom's house?"

Cas sat up straighter.

"What house," Gabe asked.

Dean's mouth was working and Bobby's face was ruddy with emotion, so Sam answered for them.

"Bobby's mother lived in a house across town, behind the park? Where all the Victorians are." He smiled at Bobby. "Grandma May made the best apple pie I've ever eaten."

"That she did," Bobby agreed, throwing a glance at Ellen. "Sorry, hon."

Dean filed away the _hon_ for later mockery, mouth still opening and closing like a fish. "Bobby. I can't._ We_ can't." His hands trembled when he tried to pass the keys back.

"You can and you will." Bobby shoved his hand away. "The historical society has been bugging me to let them have that house for years. This will get them off my back." He glanced at the sleeping baby, then at the boy seated on the floor beside Jo. "You have a family now. And you need a bigger house."

"Thank you, Bobby," Cas said sincerely, holding out a hand. Bobby grasped it firmly with a nod.

"Now can we eat?" Gabe asked pitifully, and everyone laughed.

"Dig in!" Ellen said with a flourish. She patted Bobby's back when he reached for a ham and swiss. "You old softy."

"Shut it," he grumbled, pinching her butt.

The doorbell rang at half past three a.m.

"Jake!" at least three people yelled good-naturedly.

"Wow. Lazy asses. Every one of you."

"Language," Dean chirped with a grin.

Jake pulled open the door and then turned to the room in exasperation. "Okay. Who invited the devil?"

Cas started to laugh, a low chuckle that grew until he gasped, holding a palm to his chest.

Dean covered the hand with his own, linking their fingers and kissing his temple. "Ease up there, babe, before you pop the other lung. You'll tell me when you're ready to lie down, right?"

Cas squeezed his hand. "Not until I can get you naked."

"Obviously," Dean chuckled. He had placed the keys on his knee earlier, and he jiggled them. "Pretty amazing, huh?"

"Yeah, it's overwhelming," Cas said. "I'm guessing an old house like that, there will be _lots_ of rooms to explore." He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

"Parents bedroom downstairs, kids rooms upstairs?" Dean asked with a grin.

"I might be ready to get naked now," Cas murmured, rubbing his temple against Dean's jaw.

"That's _not_ what I asked you to tell me," Dean laughed softly. "And there will be no sexy times until you're one hundred percent upright and participatory."

"Hey," Cas complained. "I can participate. I can lie very still and give vocal encouragement."

Dean shifted behind him. "You need to behave," he muttered.

Cas chuckled and squeezed his hand again, smiling when Lucifer dropped to the floor beside Jake and handed him a one-hundred dollar bill. Jake's eyes bugged but then he accepted the cash with smirk. Cas couldn't hear what they were saying to each other, but he was warmed by the awkward pat Lucifer gave the boy's back.

"Where's my cashola, bro?" Gabe asked.

"Ask our boyfriend," Lucifer winked.

"Lucifer," Sam warned.

"Too soon," Gabe said, jabbing a finger in Lucifer's direction.

"You know," Ash drawled from the center of the room, where he was currently lying on his back surrounded by discarded bows. "Technically, there's no reason why you couldn't share. I mean, he's stupid tall. There's probably enough of him to go around."

"Ash!"

Ash shrugged. "Just tryin' to mediate. The sexual tension in this room is making Bobby uncomfortable."

"I am _not_ uncomfortable," Bobby grunted, shifting uncomfortably.

Dani chose that moment to roll into a sitting position in the playpen, blinking sleepily at the occupants of the living room, the left side of her hair flattened against her head while the right side stood straight up. She whined anxiously and held her arms out toward Dean, her chubby hands working open and closed.

"I've got her," Jo said when Dean moved to get up. She lifted the baby and kissed her sleep-flushed cheek. "You're the most beautiful girl in the world, Dani Winchester."

"Winchester-Novak," Dean corrected, taking the baby from Jo. Dani, of course, immediately decided she wanted Cas and reached for him instead.

"Daddy's girl," Dean grumbled, without any real malice. He helped Cas situate her on his lap so that she faced the room, eyes bright and curious. She twisted around to make sure Cas hadn't gone anywhere. She had been somewhat traumatized while he was in the hospital. Cas smiled down at her, patting her tummy with his good hand.

"Can we stick Harvelle in there too? You haven't finalized the papers yet, right? Harvelle-Winchester-Novak." Jo nodded her head in satisfaction, plopping down on Ash's stomach.

Ash grunted. "Goddamn, Harvelle, ease up on the hotwings, yo."

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Jo ground her butt a little firmer into Ash's chest.

"Jesus Christ, yes, woman. Now get off my breathing apparati." Ash shoved her to the floor.

"Goodwin's just as good a name as Harvelle and I'm blood related. Goodwin should get a vote ahead of Harvelle," Gabe complained.

Sam smiled down at him indulgently. "Goodwin-Harvelle-Winchester-Novak?" He shook his head. "I'd hate to be her kindergarten teacher."

"Hey now," Dean complained. "There will be no rapid aging allowed. And _I_ will be her kindergarten teacher. I think I can handle it."

"You're going to be your daughter's teacher," Cas said dubiously. "That sounds like a recipe for disaster. Dani will run you like a finely tuned motor."

"Oh _God,_ baby, please _do_ talk cars to me," Dean murmured, wrapping an arm around him, Dani and all.

"Get a room!" Ash called.

"I think since I practically raised every goddamn one of you," Bobby spoke up, "with the exception of Cas and his brothers Shortpants," he nodded to Gabe, "and the devil, _Singer_ should be added to this monstrosity of a name."

"Danielle Singer-Goodwin-Harvelle-Winchester-Novak," Dean said triumphantly. "Awesome."

"Jake?" Cas asked, smiling at the boy who was looking at the room like they had finally lost their mind.

Jake chewed his lip, considering. "I speak for both Dani and me, since she can't talk yet, and we would prefer plain old Winchester-Novak. And I can't believe I just hyphenated my own last name. Fuck my life."

"Language!" the room admonished at large.

Dean smiled at his family, holding Cas and the baby closer, winking at his teenage son as the lights from the Christmas tree played a colorful symphony along the side of his handsome face.

Winchester-Novak sounded perfect.

_fin_

_**Author's Note: **_

Dear readers,

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for all the love you've given both me and my very AU versions of Dean and Cas and family. I sincerely wish it never had to end!

Six months ago, I had never written a Dean/Castiel story. A year ago, I had never read a Dean/Castiel story.

Not to be melodramatic, but this experience has changed my life. This has been a whirlwind, crazy year, but I wouldn't change a thing.

When I started writing this story, in my head it was a 10-20K word crack!fic of humor and sexy times. That it then exploded into this monster of a domestic fluff ball still amazes me. I legitimately lost two months of my life immersed in this world, but I wouldn't change a second of it.

Incidentally, there was a shift in the narrative about 10 chapters ago, when a couple of world events happened that I had unwittingly foretold in the ending chapters of this fic (I almost always write the end first). That necessitated a huge change of plans for me, because it would have been insensitive for me to continue as planned (in fact, I had to do a fast rewrite of two chapters on the fly...scrapping most of what I had written from that point forward!) I almost gave up then.

In the end though, I couldn't walk away, and mostly that's because of all of you. You're seriously the best, and you loved teacher Dean and firefighter Cas as much as I loved them. Once I realized that, I knew it was going to be okay.

Thank you again, for reading, for commenting, for coming over to my tumblr to scream and cry and shout encouragement.

I wrote this one for you.

3  
~lastknownwriter


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